


Ready For A Romance

by flowerfan



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Check Please Big Bang, First Date, First Meeting, Fluff, Law School AU, M/M, Romance, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: Bitty would love for his second year at Harvard Law to include more than just studying.  Determined to have a social life, he creates the “Barrister Bakers” club, and meets first year Shitty Knight (who shows up expecting pot).  Things only get better when Shitty introduces Bitty to his long time crush Lardo Duan, as well as his best friend, gorgeous but shy NHL player Jack Zimmerman.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Check, Please Big Bang. Many thanks to the wonderful Nostalgic_Kitty (nostalgickitty on tumblr) for creating such beautiful art for this story – it was a pleasure to work with such a talented artist. See her lovely creation here: [art](http://trapped-in-gay-hockey-hell.tumblr.com/post/152722804523/check-please-big-bang-illustration-2-aaaaaand)
> 
> And thanks as always to my dear friend and wonderful beta perry_avenue (perryavenue on tumblr), without whom this fandom life would not be nearly as much fun.

Bitty puts his new rolling pin in the drawer and closes it, then turns and looks around the room with a small sigh of satisfaction. One year of living in the dorms was enough – even though last year he didn’t have time to do much of anything but study, he is very happy to have his own apartment now.

As a second year student at Harvard Law School, Bitty knows that he’s still going to have to work hard. But he won’t have to take the dull foundation courses he had no interest in, and he understands the rhythm of it all now – how to brief a case, tease out the relevant facts, outline the critical arguments and the holding. This year he’s ready to do more than just study. This year, Bitty is ready to enjoy life, as much as a law student possibly can.

Step one of his new plan is right here, the small apartment on Prentiss Street he shares with a computer science grad student. William – or Dex, as he introduced himself – had explained somewhat apologetically that he wouldn’t be around very much, as he needed to do most of his work on campus. This was fine with Bitty, and he assured Dex that there would always be pie on the counter that he was welcome to eat at any time of day or night, which made his new roommate smile and his freckled nose crinkle.

Bitty knew the way to make new friends was through pie. It had always worked before, although back in college in Georgia he had to be careful who he shared his culinary interests with. The guys in his dorm freshman year had just laughed at him when he asked whether they minded if he used the common area kitchen to bake, and that had put an end to his public displays of confection. Instead he saved his baking for his close friends, two girls who kept him company through all four years of school.

Because despite all of Bitty’s best intentions, he had quickly decided that he wasn’t coming out in Georgia. Although college was supposed to be a place where you could really be yourself, the messages he received daily weren’t particularly supportive of the self Bitty wanted to be. So he bided his time, and studied hard, and when the opportunity came to go to Harvard Law, not only arguably the finest law school in the country, but located in the extremely liberal and LGBTQ friendly Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Bitty didn’t hesitate.

Not that being out had guaranteed Bitty more in the way of romance than he had encountered at home – the ridiculous stress and heavy workload of being a one L pretty much squelched any thoughts he had of flirting in the library and dates in Harvard Square. But his classmates knew he was gay, and accepted it without blinking an eye, and that was amazing enough in itself. Almost. Because a boyfriend would be nice, too.

Bitty hears his phone ping with a text, and quickly reads it. It’s from Bettina, one of his two girl pals from college. She’s in nursing school now, and they haven’t seen each other in a while, but Bitty can always count on her to send him amusing celebrity news and random Buzzfeed articles. She and Celia – who called them Betty and Bitty, hence giving Bitty his nickname – made it their mission to check on Bitty regularly during his first year in law school, sending texts and emails and the occasional care package with their attempts at making one of Bitty’s recipes. “You shouldn’t always have to bake for yourself,” Celia would say. He loved them for it.

And as much as Bitty doesn’t mind making pie just for himself, and now for Dex, he would much rather have more people to feed. And so when the student activity fair came around this year, Bitty signed up for a spot at a table. When the evening came, students and professors were lined up across the room to sample his pies, and some of them even put their name down to attend the inaugural meeting of “Barrister Bakers,” the very first baking club at Harvard Law School.

Tonight is the third meeting of the club. Now that his apartment is properly set up, he is holding the meeting here (after first getting the okay from Dex), and he is admittedly a little bit nervous. Seven students had attended the first meeting, and five came to the second.

One of them, however, has piqued Bitty’s interest. He had introduced himself as “Shitty,” which seemed like an unfortunate nickname, although Shitty had explained that it was a hockey thing. Bitty had confessed that he had played hockey in high school – on a co-ed league – and apparently that was enough for Shitty to decide he was a worthy friend.

Indeed, Shitty is the first to arrive tonight. Bitty greets him at the door, and stands there happily for a moment, breathing in the cooler night air, as he peeks down the street to see if anyone else is coming.

“Brah, hey, how are ya?” Shitty asks, striding into the room. He seems to take up more space than the average person, but he’s so friendly about it, Bitty doesn’t mind.

Shitty rambles into the kitchen and then back out into the small living area, looking at Bitty curiously. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s just eight o’clock now. They’ll be here,” Bitty says hopefully.

Sure enough, the other three arrive a few minutes later, and the night passes quickly, Bitty showing everyone how to make the perfect pie crust. He even pulled out his cookie cutters, so that everyone could decorate their top crusts with perfect fall leaves and acorns.

Several hours later, everyone has departed except for Shitty. Bitty looks up from his spot in the kitchen where he has been sweeping the flour up off the floor, and sees Shitty sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

He looks up when Bitty approaches. “Did your first year suck too?”

Ah, the lament of a first year law student. It’s frighteningly familiar. “Yes, I’m afraid it did.” Bitty sits down on the couch next to Shitty, his hands primly in his lap.

Shitty leans over and puts his head on Bitty’s shoulder. “Just tell me it gets better, man. I can do anything for a year, right?”

Bitty nods, and shifts so that he is leaning against the back of the couch. Shitty is warm against him, and heavy. “It does get better. Last year I didn’t have time for anything. This year…” he trails off. He’s shy, suddenly. “This year I’m going to have fun.”

“Sounds good. Maybe I can live vicariously through you, or some shit.”

“Only if you know some cute boys.” Bitty freezes as the words fall out of his mouth. He did **not** mean to say that. Despite how comfortable he feels with Shitty, he’s only known the guy for a few weeks.

But Shitty takes it in stride. “Yeah? Hmm. I’ll think about it. See what I can do.”

****  
Weeks go by. Bitty is pleased to learn that he got into his first choice for an evening reading group, “The Future of Employment,” about how traditional forms of employment are changing, and the consequences those changes have for workers. When he graduates, Bitty wants to practice in an area of the law that directly impacts people – he knows helping big corporations with tax and finance isn’t for him. So he’s trying to learn about family law, LGBTQ rights, employment discrimination, and anything that might feed in to his future practice. Plus, the professor leading the reading group is awesome.

To his surprise, Shitty is in the course, too.

“How’d you have time for this, on top of all your required first year courses?” Bitty asks, as they sit at the long wood table, waiting for the rest of the group to settle down.

Shitty shrugs. “Don’t know. Figured I should have something more interesting to think about than just the property laws of old dead white men.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

Shitty looks at Bitty, touched. “Bro, I’m glad you’re here too.”

Bitty wishes he had more time to spend with Shitty, as it seems clear he could use a friend, but the course load for one L’s is no joke. They meet for lunch a few times a week, both of them usually with their heads in their books as they scarf down a sandwich from the cafeteria. There’s better food available just a short walk away, but time is scarce, and the cafeteria is slightly cheaper than the fast food places on Mass Ave.

Bitty is fairly certain that Shitty isn’t interested in him as anything more than a friend, which suits him just fine. Shitty isn’t really his type – although, to be fair, he’s not completely sure what his type is. But he is very happy to have made this connection; he thinks Shitty’s the kind of friend that sticks around.

During one of their lunches Bitty’s phone pings almost at the same time as Shitty’s, and they each grin at the other before reading their texts.

“Friend from college,” Bitty explains. “She wanted to know if I could send her my recipe for mocha brownies.”

Shitty raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t made me any mocha brownies – you holding out?”

“Are you kidding? I completely spoil you. I made you mini-pies just yesterday, and I don’t make those for just anyone.” Bitty’s heart warms at the smile that earns him. “Who are you talking to?” He nods at Shitty’s phone, which has just pinged with another text.

“Friend from college, too. Lardo. She’s great…” Shitty frowns, bites his lip. “I miss her. A fucking lot.”

“Where is she now? Far?” Bitty wishes Celia and Betty were closer.

“Nah, she’s actually still at Samwell. She’s got one more year.”

“Why don’t you invite her to come visit? I’d make mocha brownies for her,” Bitty teases.

*****  
Bitty can’t help but find it amusing - now that Shitty has mentioned his dear friend Lardo (“Larissa, actually”) once, he can’t seem to stop talking about her. They’re on their way to meet her at Charlie’s Kitchen in Harvard Square, which Shitty has described as “the finest dive bar in the fucking world,” and Shitty is recounting yet another story about the miracles Lardo performed as the manager of their hockey team.

“She’s just not afraid of anything, you know? I don’t get how she does it.”

There’s something Bitty has been wanting to ask, and he figures since they are about to come face to face with the woman herself, he had better bite the bullet.

“Shitty,” he begins, as they wait at a corner for a lull in the traffic, “were you and Lardo…?”

“Fuck, no.” Shitty sighs, and grabs Bitty’s arm as he tugs him across the street. “I thought about it, right? But – I dunno. She’s out of my league.”

Fifteen minutes later, when they get to Charlie’s, Bitty easily recognizes Lardo from Shitty’s description – she’s petite, dark-haired, and fierce. His brain stutters, however, as he lays eyes on the tall, handsome man with eyes the color of lake water standing next to Lardo, and Shitty’s words echo in Bitty’s mind. _Out of my league._

Bitty plasters a smile on his face and firmly ignores the butterflies in his stomach as Shitty wraps his arms around the two visitors and cheers.

“Holy crap, Jack, you fucking Adonis. Why didn’t you tell me you would be here?”

The man – Jack – ducks his head and mumbles something about a surprise.

“God damn, it’s a fucking amazing surprise. Oh – hey, wait-” Bitty finds himself being pushed in front of Shitty’s friends, “this is Bitty. He’s ‘swawesome, you’re gonna love him.”

Bitty is too busy being hugged by Lardo to see what Jack’s reaction to him is. When Lardo releases him, Jack holds out his (big, strong) hand for Bitty to shake, and Bitty nearly swoons as those blue eyes meet his own. _Down, boy, down,_ Bitty chastises himself. This night is for Shitty, don’t make a fool of yourself.

Shitty orders double cheeseburgers and fries for all of them, and a pitcher of beer that he and Lardo quickly drain. Bitty is seated next to Shitty and across from Jack, and as it becomes clear that Shitty and Lardo have plenty to talk about between the two of them, Bitty tries to engage Jack in conversation.

Although it’s hard, given the noise level in the crowded room, Bitty learns that Jack also played hockey with Shitty at Samwell, where he studied history, and they’re still best friends. Jack graduated two years ago, same as Bitty. And he’s Canadian – from Montreal, which explains his entirely charming accent.

“So, Jack, when you gonna get us tickets to a Bruins game?” Shitty asks, turning his attention to the rest of the table.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Lardo said, bumping Jack with her shoulder. She looks over at Bitty with a sneaky sort of smile. “You could come too, Bitty. Ever see the Bruins play?”

“No, I haven’t. The four of us could go, that would be great,” Bitty says amiably. He hasn’t really followed hockey since high school, but he enjoyed it well enough at the time.

But Lardo is giving him an odd look, and Shitty seems to be just this side of bursting into laughter. Bitty looks to Jack for assistance. “Am I missing something?”

Jack blushes, and looks down. “I’m on the team.”

“The team?”

“The Bruins.” Jack glances up at Bitty. “You didn’t know? Christ, I mean, why should you know, that’s a ridiculous thing to say-”

Jack is so clearly uncomfortable, and it probably doesn’t help that Shitty and Lardo, both well on their way to wasted, are now laughing uncontrollably.

“No, it’s not ridiculous at all.” Bitty reaches across the table and pats Jack’s hand briefly, where he’s fiddling with his napkin. “My _friend_ Shitty might have told me that he’s best friends with an NHL player. He might have thought that would be _relevant_ information.”

“Usually people know,” Jack tries to explain. “Before they meet me.”

There’s more going on there, Bitty thinks. He’s going to have to talk to Shitty about it – when he’s sober.

Lardo starts asking Jack about a new player who has joined the team this year, and Jack answers in detail, looking relieved to have something to talk about besides himself. Shitty wanders off and returns with yet another pitcher of beer, and when both Bitty and Jack chirp him for it, their eyes meet – and Bitty swoons again. Do _not_ fall for the straight boy, Bitty tells himself firmly. That way madness lies.

*****

That night, sitting cross-legged in his bed with Señor Bun tucked in next to him, Bitty does some research. It’s not at all creepy to want to know more about Jack, especially when Bitty’s lack of knowledge seemed to cause some kind of glitch in Jack’s brain.

He realizes right away that he doesn’t even know Jack’s last name, but a quick look at the Bruins’ roster leads him there. Jack Zimmermann – oh, my. Understanding dawns on Bitty, and he feels even worse about the night’s events. He’s _that_ guy – the one with the famous father, and the derailed career. Bitty was in high school when it happened, and although he apparently didn’t remember the boy’s first name, he can clearly remember the scandal.

Bitty reads on, but the bio doesn’t give much in the way of personal information, except to serve as evidence that regardless of whatever happened to Jack when he was a teenager, he seems to have recovered well – four years at Samwell, leading their college team to great heights, and then straight into the NHL, playing for the Bruins. He won the Calder Trophy his first year, and now, in his second year, seems destined to continue in his father’s very successful footsteps.

Bitty knows he should stop now, but he can’t resist. He googles Jack’s name, and Bitty’s mouth drops open at the list of results. He rapidly clicks on the first and begins reading. Apparently last spring Jack became the first NHL player to come out as gay. Bitty wonders momentarily if he has been living under a rock – and then realizes he was taking his one L final exams at the time. He probably wouldn’t have noticed if Hillary Clinton had divorced Bill and married Ted Cruz, he was so sleep deprived. 

Excitement thrills through Bitty’s body as he realizes the full extent of what he has learned. The impossibly handsome man he met tonight – his new friend Shitty’s best friend – the man Bitty casually got to know over greasy burgers and cheap beer – is gay. Maybe Bitty has a chance with Mr. Tall, Dark and Bashful after all.

*****

Shitty calls off their lunch the next day, claiming his hangover is messing up his schedule, but then appears at Bitty’s door unannounced that evening. He doesn’t give much of an explanation, just makes himself comfortable on the couch after Bitty lets him in.

“Study break?” Shitty asks, holding up a bag. 

Bitty grins and takes the bag, peering inside to find two giant burritos and a large side of guacamole and chips. “Definitely.”

Bitty arranges the food on the coffee table and they dig in. Bitty’s starving, as it turns out, having skipped dinner in lieu of finishing a chapter in his gender discrimination textbook. He looks up when Shitty laughs.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were high, given how you just downed that burrito,” Shitty says, and then goes on, probably in response to Bitty’s confused expression. “That’s what I thought your club was about, you know – Barrister Bakers? I couldn’t believe someone had the balls to start a pot club. But I smoked all through college, so I thought hey, a kindred spirit!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Bitty says, frowning.

“No way, bro, the real you is ‘swawesome,” Shitty says. “Wouldn’t trade you for anyone.”

Bitty gets a warm feeling in his chest. “You’re a sweet guy, Shitty.”

Shitty looks embarrassed. Bitty gets the feeling he doesn’t hear this often enough.

“Wish Lardo thought so.”

Bitty laughs brightly. “What, are you kidding? She definitely thinks so.”

“Yeah?”

They launch into a debrief of the previous night’s events, Shitty hanging on every word Bitty says about Lardo. He’s entirely unprepared, however, for what comes next.

“Hey, Bits?” Shitty’s voice has turned serious. “Don’t believe everything you read about Jack. He’s a really good guy.”

It’s like Shitty opened up Bitty’s laptop and checked the history. “You mean, the thing that happened with the draft?”

“The media never got it right. Jack’s parents didn’t want his dirty laundry shared with the world, you know? So people drew their own conclusions. By the time Jack started talking about it, no one wanted to believe it was an overdose of anxiety medication – the media liked the horror stories they had created better. An addiction to coke apparently makes a better news story than an anxiety disorder.”

Anxiety, Bitty thinks, remembering Jack’s nervousness the night before. That explains a lot.

“I really enjoyed meeting him,” Bitty says sincerely. “He seems like a good person.”

“He is!” Shitty crows, and immediately starts to tell Bitty all about what it was like having Jack as his captain at Samwell. “He can be grumpy sometimes, and kinda hard to get to know? But give him a chance. I’m so fucking proud of him now, man. You wouldn’t believe what it took for him to get here. And now he’s a freaking NHL star. No one deserves it more.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bitty squares his shoulders as they pull up to the beautiful gray house, the wheels of Shitty’s Lexus crunching on the gravel driveway. As he opens the car door, he can smell the salt air of the ocean on the cool breeze.

“What’s the matter, Bits?” Shitty asks, when he’s slow to get out of the car. “Not a fan of Thanksgiving?”

“No, I love Thanksgiving,” Bitty says. “And parents usually like me. I’ll be fine.” At least, parents of someone like Shitty should be okay with him; Shitty doesn’t strike him as having come from a conservative family. Although you never know.

“Who said anything about parents?” Shitty asks, grinning as he goes to the trunk to retrieve their bags. “We’re just hanging with these idiots this weekend.”

A black Navigator pulls up next to them, and Bitty has to forcibly keep his jaw from dropping open as he sees Jack and Lardo get out. 

“I had no idea you were coming,” he confesses to Lardo as she pulls him in to a hug. Lardo just raises her eyebrows and gives him a mysterious smile. Bitty hopes someday he gets better at interpreting her looks – sometimes it seems she uses her eyebrows to communicate more often than her words.

Jack turns to him when Lardo launches herself at Shitty, and before Bitty can figure out whether to hold out his hand to shake, Jack is giving him a somewhat awkward bro hug, patting him roughly on the back, and then stepping away quickly. Jack ducks his head, and Bitty is pretty sure he’s blushing.

It turns out that Shitty had invited them all to his summer house on the Cape for the weekend, and neglected to tell Bitty that neither of his parents would be joining them. The story comes out as they investigate the kitchen, which has been amply stocked with all the necessary ingredients to make a Thanksgiving meal (and then some – Bitty has never seen such a beautifully appointed pantry. There are four different kinds of flour, and five kinds of sugar).

“I knew you weren’t going home,” Shitty says to Bitty, “and Jack’s Canadian, so, he didn’t have plans,” Shitty explains. “And I’m always up for an excuse to avoid a holiday with my family. I told them I have a lot of studying to do.”

“And you do,” Jack says, frowning at Shitty. “Did you bring your books?”

Shitty grins. “Aye aye, captain. But first, we have a meal to cook!”

Shitty’s idea of cooking Thanksgiving dinner revolves primarily around the variety of alcoholic beverages he is planning on imbibing. He explains that they are going to start with Bloody Marys, then move on to beer for the afternoon, followed by pre-dinner cocktails (Lardo rolls her eyes at this point, and Bitty wonders what Shitty’s idea of a cocktail is). For those who so desire, there will be wine with dinner. Shitty offers to let Bitty pick out what to serve from the wine cellar, and laughs gently at him when Bitty just stares in disbelief. “Fine, we’ll let Jack pick out the wine.”

Shitty makes a mess getting the Bloody Marys ready, which Bitty sips experimentally while his brain clicks into gear – he has the use of a fantastic kitchen, high end ingredients, and a bevy of sous chefs – their dinner is going to be amazing! 

Before Bitty does anything more than preheat the oven, however, Shitty insists on taking them on a tour of the house. “That way you can all fend for yourselves. Feel free to use anything you want. There’s a hot tub out back, bikes in the garage, whirlpool in the master bath…” Bitty thinks Shitty looks wistfully at Lardo as he mentions this last item, but he can’t be sure. 

Visible from the gourmet kitchen island is a great room, decorated tastefully in shades of ivory, tan and blue, with an expansive white sectional couch facing the floor to ceiling glass windows. There’s a huge flat screen television on the wall, a pine cabinet with a sound system, and a light wood dining table off to the side. Shitty pulls open the blinds, revealing a view of the ocean, and they all take a minute to stare. “We can go out on the deck later, if you guys want. There’s some kind of heater thing, since it’s cold. Or we can turn on the fire pit.” 

“Nice,” Lardo says, biting her lip as Shitty continues with his tour.

“There’s another sitting room over here, but it’s kind of boring, unless you play the piano,” he says, pointing out the baby grand in the corner. “My sister plays, so it’s always tuned.” He glances at Bitty, apparently the only one of them who hasn’t yet confirmed his lack of musical ability, and Bitty shakes his head. “Oh well. Um… here’s the bathroom, well, one of them. And you can get out to the beach this way, too.” 

Shitty grabs the duffel bag he left by the door, and they all do the same, traipsing up the stairs behind him. “We’ve got lots of space. I’m taking the room at the end of the hall – you guys pick whichever one you want.” 

Because of course there are rooms for all of them, Bitty thinks, trying to hold back a giggle. This is by far the largest house he’s ever been in, and it’s just a summer house. He pushes open the door on his left to see a small room with a queen sized bed covered in a pretty quilt in tones of blue and green, and deposits his overnight bag on the floor. It will do fine. 

As he turns to go back downstairs he nearly bumps into Jack, who is coming out of the room across the hall. 

“Oh – excuse me, Bitty, I didn’t mean to – um – yeah,” Jack mumbles, his hands raised in apology.

“No, don’t worry, I’m easy to miss,” Bitty says, and Jack’s head pops up, his blue eyes latching on to Bitty’s.

“No, you’re not,” Jack says, and Bitty’s heart leaps in his chest. They start to walk down the hall together, and then Jack pauses. “Is it okay to call you that, ‘Bitty’? I know Shitty does, but sometimes his nicknames aren’t necessarily welcome…”

“Oh, lord, no. It’s fine. People have been calling me that for years, it’s not a problem at all. I like it. My name’s Bittle.”

Jack’s eyebrows go up a tad, and Bitty goes on. “My last name, that is. Is Bittle. I’m Eric. Eric Bittle.” Smooth, Bitty thinks, very smooth.

Jack looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile. “Nice to meet you, Eric.”

“Same.” Bitty stands there like a fool for far too many seconds, held in place by the intensity of Jack’s gaze. Get a grip, he thinks, and then shakes his head. "Well, that turkey won’t cook itself. How are you at chopping things?”

As it turns out, Jack is very good at chopping things.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such precisely diced onions,” Bitty says, looking over Jack’s work on the stuffing ingredients. “And the parsley is perfect, too.” Jack smiles shyly as Bitty gives him his next assignment, peeling potatoes and cutting them into chunks to be boiled, and then mashed.

By the time the turkey is prepared and in the oven, and most of the side dishes are waiting in the refrigerator until it gets closer to dinnertime, Bitty is in love. And not just with the double ovens. 

As if Jack’s willingness to follow directions and his precision knife skills weren’t enough, he hardly blinked an eye when Bitty discovered that instead of canned cranberry sauce (which is delicious, and a real time saver, thank you very much), they had been provided with a bag of actual cranberries.

“My mother makes it from scratch,” Jack says, taking out his phone. He pokes around, then hands it to Bitty so he can see the recipe he found. “It’s not hard.”

He’s right, and the aroma of the cranberries bursting open in the saucepan, covered in water and a little bit of orange juice and Triple Sec from the Knight’s fully stocked liquor cabinet, is fantastic. Bitty goes easy on the sugar – given the three pies he has brought along, there will be plenty of sweets after dinner, and he’s curious to see how a slightly more tangy sauce will complement the turkey. 

“Why don’t you take a break?”

Bitty blinks up at Jack, who is gazing at him with a concerned look on his face. “What?”

“You look tired.” Jack takes a step closer to him, then apparently thinks better of it and steps back again. “I can put the stuffing and potatoes back in to warm up in a half hour or so. You should take a break. Go lie down for a little while.”

“No, I couldn’t…” That bed upstairs did look awfully comfortable. “There’s still the table to be set, and drinks to organize…”

“You shouldn’t be responsible for this entire event. I’m sure Lardo can handle setting the table, and we know Shitty can take care of the drinks.”

“You sure?”

Jack smiles, and Bitty melts inside. “I’m sure.”

In minutes, Bitty is upstairs, curled up under the covers. He stretches, luxuriating in the warm bed and fluffy pillows. There’s nothing better than an afternoon doze while delicious smells from a meal in progress waft through the air. Except, Bitty thinks teasingly to himself, if one extremely attractive Canadian sous chef were to join him in this very comfortable bed. Bitty sighs, turning over to set the alarm on his phone for forty-five minutes. A boy can dream.

Bitty doesn’t wake up forty-five minutes later, however – he sleeps for over an hour, waking only at a knock on his door. He’s confused for a minute, but then remembers it’s Thanksgiving, and he’s in Shitty’s parents’ house.

The knock comes again. “Eric?”

“Come in.” He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, noting that his nap hasn’t done his cowlick any good.

The door pushes open, and Jack is standing there, looking awkward. “I, um, I took the turkey out, and I think everything is almost ready, but you might want to come check it?”

“Oh my gosh, the turkey!” He jumps out of bed and scrambles for his phone – which has run out of battery, hence the lack of an alarm – and follows Jack down the stairs. After he confirms that the turkey is in fact cooked perfectly (he thinks Jack blushes when Bitty declares that it is as moist as his mama’s) and nothing is burning, he gives in to Shitty’s insistence that he and Jack sit down and let him and Lardo do the serving.

The table is set prettily with a rustic coastal theme, pieces of driftwood forming a centerpiece, shells making a line down the center of the table, and little candles in glass jars. 

“It looks beautiful,” Bitty gushes. “How did you do this so fast?” 

Lardo just shrugs.

“Art is kinda her thing,” Shitty explains, setting down an overflowing dish of mashed potatoes. “We don’t question it.”

Soon their conversation is flowing as easily as the wine Jack selected (Bitty figures it must be very expensive wine, because he’s never had white wine that tasted so good), and Bitty relaxes. Everyone praises the meal, including the made from scratch cranberry sauce. He can’t help but notice, however, that the lightly seasoned fresh green beans don’t get any love from anyone but Jack; next time he’ll have the right ingredients for a classic green bean casserole with mushroom soup and fried onions.

After dinner, Shitty piles the dishes in the sink and announces that they are going to play games until they recover enough for dessert. Apparently Jack has never heard of Cards Against Humanity, and this has so amused Shitty that he’s determined to make him play.

Jack, for his part, tries to get a consensus for a less sedentary activity. “We could go for a walk?” he suggests, but Shitty is having none of it. And wow, watching Jack blush while they play cards is so much fun, Bitty instantly forgives Shitty for, well, anything he might have the need to forgive him for. 

It’s a pleasure, too, watching Shitty interact with his friends. He’s is so different with this group than he is at school, relaxed and open. Being a first year is hard on everyone, and Bitty is glad that Shitty has found his people again. He’s even more glad that somehow includes him.

By the time Bitty goes to the kitchen to bring out the pies, his stomach hurts so much from laughing he thinks he’ll be sore in the morning. Lardo follows him in, watching curiously as he puts the pumpkin and pecan pies on platters, and arranges the cranberry-apple mini-pies on a glass plate.

“You really like to bake, huh?” she asks, as Bitty gets the whipping cream out of the refrigerator and pours it into the mixing bowl.

“I do.” He adds the sugar, and starts whisking vigorously.

“Jack took a course on food in college. Something about the history of food and culture. He liked it.”

“That sounds interesting,” Bitty says. “I would have liked to study something like that in school.”

“What did you major in?”

“Economics,” Bitty says, and Lardo groans. “I know, I know. But I wasn’t sure what my parents would go for. For some reason, my 18 year old brain identified Economics as a major that would be acceptable to my parents, but wasn’t as impossible for me to get my head around as science. I did get to take a really good course on gender and the law my junior year. That’s when I decided for sure that I wanted to go to law school.”

“Yeah?”

Bitty nods. “Yup. It’s actually really fun, you know? Figuring out how you can use the law to make changes in society. I mean, look at how the fight for marriage equality developed. Court cases were critical in that battle, and Massachusetts was on the cutting edge – in 2004, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial court held that it was unconstitutional to prohibit same-sex marriage, and just like that, Massachusetts became the first state to allow gay marriage.” Bitty takes the two pies over to the table, and Lardo brings the whipped cream and the mini-pies. “Lawyers figured out how to make that happen. How cool is that?”

Jack and Shitty look up as they approach. “Quebec’s courts approved same-sex marriage two months before Massachusetts did,” Jack says primly.

“How on earth do you know that, brah?” Shitty asks, helping himself to a large slice of pumpkin pie.

“My uncle got married that year. He tells the story all the time, of how he and his fiancé were either going to get married in Ontario, or have a civil ceremony in Montreal, but then same-sex marriage was recognized in Quebec, so they got married in Montreal.”

“Your uncle’s gay?” Bitty asks.

“Yeah. Definitely made it a little easier for me to tell my parents.” 

Shitty gives Jack a curious look, and Bitty gets the feeling it’s fairly unusual for Jack to speak so openly about things like this. But the moment passes, and it’s quiet for a few minutes, except for exclamations of enjoyment as they all stuff themselves with Bitty’s pies. 

Before long, Jack yawns so wide it’s almost comic. “I’m afraid I’ve got to call it a night. Had an early practice this morning, and I’ll be up early again tomorrow.” He stands up from the table. “If anyone wants to join me on a run, I’m heading out around six.” He says this entirely seriously, and Bitty watches as his friends just nod in acceptance.

“Sorry, man, can’t see that happening,” Shitty says, and Jack just smiles at him. “There’s gotta be some up side to not playing hockey any more.”

“Hockey’s not the only reason to stay fit,” Jack says.

“You’re completely right, bro. You go out there and work hard, so the rest of us can admire your beautiful ass.” Shitty reaches out and gives Jack a slap on the butt as he goes by. 

“Hockey butt,” Lardo comments under her breath, looking at Bitty. 

“Good night, all,” Jack says, and heads up the stairs.

Bitty doesn’t quite know how to process all of this, not least of all the fact that Lardo seems to be praising Jack’s physique for Bitty’s benefit. Not that she needs to – Bitty is well aware of just how good Jack’s ass looks in his jeans. But he does file one tidbit of information away… he knows where Jack will be at six a.m.

*****  
The next morning, Bitty wakes up before his alarm. His plan had been to get up in time to make a fabulous breakfast for Jack to enjoy when he gets back from his run, but as it turns out, it’s only 5:30 in the morning and he’s wide awake. It’s like God is trying to tell him to get out of bed and get some exercise, so with a heavy sigh, Bitty digs his sneakers out of his bag and puts on his running clothes.

Bitty runs regularly, has done since high school. It’s the one form of exercise he can do anywhere, without any equipment other than a decent pair of shoes, and given how many calories in pie he ingests every day, he’s got to do something to stay in shape. 

Bitty goes downstairs, and finds Jack sitting in the kitchen, lacing up his sneakers. He looks up at Bitty, surprised, and Bitty hopes he didn’t miscalculate.

“I was up anyway. Still want company?”

The soft smile that spreads across Jack’s face is all the answer he needs.

Bitty had imagined them running on the beach, but Jack points out that it’s pitch black still. So they head off down the road which parallels the shore.

It’s blessedly quiet, except for their breathing and the pounding of their feet on the pavement. The sun won’t truly rise for another forty-five minutes or so, but the world slowly brightens as they run along.

Jack doesn’t say much, but he glances at Bitty regularly, each time giving him a nod as if to show his approval. Bitty imagines Jack is probably moving at less than his optimal pace, but he shows no sign of minding, so he keeps his mouth shut and just lets himself enjoy the movement of his body through the chilly air.

After about twenty-five minutes Jack slows and comes to a stop, so Bitty does too. They can see down a path between two houses all the way to the beach. 

“You’re in good shape,” Jack says. 

Bitty shakes his head. “Hardly,” he replies, trying not to let Jack notice how hard he’s breathing.

“No, seriously. I was hardly holding back at all.”

Bitty laughs. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean…” Now Jack’s flustered, and while it’s adorable, it’s not what Bitty meant to do.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I was thinking, going running with a professional athlete.” Bitty tries not to let his eyes roam over Jack’s body as he says this – his running tights hug his ass quite snugly. “You’re a doll to let me come along.”

“It’s more fun to have a partner,” Jack says solemnly.

Bitty nods. “True.” In so many ways, he thinks. He looks along the path, where the brightening sky is illuminating the ocean in lovely tones of yellow and orange. “Want to try the beach?”

“Sure.”

It’s slower, running on the sand. They try to keep to where the sand is wet enough to be firm but not wet enough to soak their shoes. Certainly the view can’t be beat.

They are about halfway back to Shitty’s house when it happens – suddenly Bitty’s foot catches on something and he goes flying to the ground, cold sand smacking him in the face.

“Eric – you okay?” Jack crouches next to him, concerned.

Bitty sits up, and immediately feels a sharp twinge in his ankle. “Um, not sure,” he says, grimacing as he flexes it.

Jack plops down next to him and reaches for his foot, then stops, hands outstretched. “Can I check it?”

“Yeah.” Bitty supposes Jack has a lot of experience with this kind of thing. He isn’t prepared, however, for how gently Jack lifts his foot into his lap, and how carefully he unlaces his shoe. Bitty winces as Jack feels the bones in his foot and ankle, and moves it slowly back and forth.

“It’s not broken,” Jack says. “Probably just a sprain. But you shouldn’t walk on it.” Jack eases Bitty’s sneaker back on and ties it loosely.

Bitty looks around them at the deserted beach. He doesn’t really see any other option besides walking. 

“Come on, I’ll help you,” Jack says, turning away from Bitty and looking at him over his shoulder. Bitty’s confusion must be plain on his face, as Jack just grins. “Piggyback. Come on.”

Bitty sends off a little thank you to whoever put that piece of driftwood in his path. Jack takes his hand and helps him stand up, his weight on his uninjured foot. Bitty hoists himself on to Jack’s back, his chin tucked over Jack’s shoulder.

“You sure this is okay?” Bitty asks as Jack starts walking down the beach.

“Please. I’m not going to just leave you here.”

“I’m small, but I do weigh something,” Bitty says lightly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Jack replies. “And I’m not gonna let you chirp me again. Ask Shitty how much I can press.”

“Oooh, bragging now, are we?”

Jack bounces Bitty a little harder in response, and Bitty laughs. His ankle hurts, but the rest of him feels pretty damn good.

When they get back to the house, Jack insists on continuing to carry Bitty until he can deposit him on the couch, then kneels to help him get his shoes off. He jogs away with the shoes, and returns with a package of frozen peas wrapped in a dishtowel. 

As Jack is arranging the makeshift ice pack on Bitty’s ankle, propped carefully on the coffee table, Bitty reaches out to touch his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Jack turns to him, face open.

“Thank you.”

There’s a blush on Jack’s face that Bitty finds extremely attractive. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not.”

Jack shrugs.

“You’re my favorite, you know,” Bitty ventures, tilting his head to try to see Jack’s face, as Jack is currently staring intensely at Bitty’s foot. He’s glad he doesn’t have any holes in his socks.

“Favorite what?” Jack turns to Bitty, nervous.

“Favorite thing about this weekend. Although I’m making peach shortbread cookies later, so depending upon how they turn out, you might be my second favorite. I’ll let you know.”

A smile spreads across Jack’s face, brighter than the sunrise. 

“Want to find a movie to watch?” Bitty asks, patting the spot on the couch next to him. 

Jack doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t claim he needs to go shower first, or change his clothes, or any of the perfectly reasonable excuses he might give. “Sure.”

So when Shitty and Lardo come downstairs hours later to find Jack and Bitty curled up together on the couch watching old episodes of _Friends,_ and immediately join them on the other side of the sectional, Bitty is happier than he can remember being in a very long time. Here in a near stranger’s house, far away from anything he’s ever known, with his ankle throbbing and his arm falling asleep where Jack is lying on it, Bitty feels like he’s at home.

*****  
They head back Saturday morning. Shitty and Bitty haven’t gotten any schoolwork done over the past few days, Jack has a practice that afternoon, and Lardo needs to be at work on Sunday to get ready for a showing on Monday.

Bitty has been hoping that Jack is going to say something to him before they leave, or make a move, or just… give him some kind of sign. But aside from a sweet look and a hug goodbye that possibly lingers a little bit longer than expected, nothing happens.

He doesn’t mean to pout, but after about ten minutes in the car Shitty pokes him in the shoulder.

“Ow. Shitty, what the hell?”

“What’s up with you, bro? Seemed like you had a great time this weekend.”

“Oh.” Where are my manners, Bitty thinks. “That’s not it at all, I had a wonderful time. Thank you so much for having me, really. I can’t imagine a better way to spend Thanksgiving than this.” 

“It was Jack’s idea, you know.”

Bitty’s mind goes blank. “What was?”

“This weekend. I was going to hang with Jack at his place – he’s got a great condo, by the way, you should see the shower – but he suggested coming out to the Cape.”

“Well, it was a good idea. It’s a beautiful place.”

Shitty frowns at him and gives him a look of disbelief. “With _you_. He suggested going to the Cape _with you_.”

“Oh…” Bitty can feel his face warm, and he ducks his head. “Well.”

“He likes you. A lot.”

“Oh,” Bitty says again, cleverly. Now his face is probably red, too. Good thing Shitty needs to keep his eyes on the road. 

“So if you’re interpreting his lack of clarity as disinterest, don’t. Jack isn’t the most socially adept guy in the world, if you haven’t figured that out. But his heart is in the right place.”

“Yes, um, okay. But… what does that mean?”

Shitty laughs. “Did he ask you out?”

“No,” Bitty says, disappointment flowing over him.

“Do you want him to?”

Bitty shoves Shitty’s arm, belatedly realizing that probably isn’t a smart thing to do while he’s driving. “You know I do, you ass.”

“Well, then, you have two choices. You can ask him, or you can wait for him to ask you. I guarantee, either one will result in a date.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Before Bitty can argue further, his phone pings with a text. It’s from Jack. 

_Eric, I had a really good time this weekend._

Bitty’s heart speeds up, and he giggles, causing Shitty to cheer. 

“That Canadian beaut, he’s in deep! I would have bet he was gonna call you tonight at the earliest, all curled up in his bed and trying to figure out what a normal person would do. Go on, answer him.”

_I had a good time, too._ Can’t go wrong with that, Bitty thinks.

Jack doesn’t immediately respond, and Bitty wonders if Shitty was wrong after all. But then there’s another text.

_Could I take you out on a date sometime? Maybe dinner?_

_I’d love that._

Bitty doesn’t mean to squeal with excitement, but apparently he does, since Shitty brings it up again approximately a hundred times on the remainder of their drive home.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a week after Thanksgiving, and Bitty is pacing around his apartment. Dex is out, but before he left he did reassure Bitty that yes, in fact, the light blue shirt does go with the dark blue blazer, and no, the bowtie is not too much.

Jack is due to pick him up in a few minutes, and it’s a good thing, because Bitty has listened to his “I wasn’t sure I’d ever need this pre-date music” playlist twice, and he is ready.

He still startles when the doorbell rings, and runs to open it. Jack is standing outside, of course, hands jammed into the pockets of his coat. 

“Jack – hi! Come in! It’s so cold outside, I guess you’re used to it, being Canadian and all, but – do you want some tea? Before we go? I could make some, if you want. I’ve got regular, and decaf, and a black currant one that I really like, if you want to try it…”

Jack finally catches Bitty’s eye, a soft smile on his face, and Bitty realizes that he’s babbling.

“Sorry. Habit, I guess.” Bitty takes a deep breath, and tries again. “Hi, Jack. I’m glad you’re here. Can I take your coat?”

“Thank you.” Jack shrugs out of his coat and unwinds a dark red scarf from around his neck. “I’m glad to see you too.” Bitty hangs the coat in the hall closet and then turns back to Jack, who is still standing by the door.

“So, um, come in.” Bitty steps into the living area, and Jack follows. “This is the living room, and over there is the kitchen. My room and Dex’s are back that way.” Bitty waves his hand towards the hall, but notices Jack really isn’t paying any attention.

“Jack? You okay?”

Jack’s eyes flicker up to meet his own, and then away. “I’ve never really done this before. Dated anyone that I, um…” Jack trails off, looking terribly uncomfortable. “I took a few girls to dances at Samwell. Didn’t really know how to avoid it. It wasn’t terrible, or anything. But I’ve never…”

Never dated anyone he was actually attracted to, Bitty wonders?

“Well, I’ve never dated anyone at all,” Bitty says, sitting down on the couch and patting the spot next to him until Jack sits down too. 

“You haven’t? But you’re so…”

Bitty smiles, thinking of the conversation he had with Shitty about Jack having trouble putting things into words.

“Well, I wasn’t out until law school, and I was too busy with classes last year to really worry about dating.” That’s only partially true – he worried a lot about dating, he just didn’t do anything about it. “I confess I’m a little nervous, too.”

The relief that comes over Jack’s face is clear, and Bitty can see his whole body relax. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But you know what would help me feel less nervous?”

“What?” 

Bitty takes a deep breath and dives in. “If you would kiss me now. Eliminate some of the tension, and all that.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. “I can do that,” he says breathlessly, and he does.

It’s soft at first, Jack’s lips just brushing against Bitty’s. Jack cups Bitty’s cheek with his hand, and increases the pressure just a little, then pulls back.

“How was that?” Jack asks tentatively.

Bitty blinks up at him, and smiles. “Excellent. But I’m still a tiny bit nervous,” he says playfully.

Jack gets it in an instant, and leans in for another kiss. This one is more confident, and Bitty finds his hands resting on Jack’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his sweater as they press their lips together. He opens his mouth a tiny bit, letting his tongue touch to Jack’s lips, and then Jack does the same. Bitty has forgotten completely about anything at all but the feeling of Jack’s mouth against his own when Jack pulls back and smiles bashfully at him. 

“Shall we go to dinner?” Jack asks.

Bitty is tempted to say no, stay here on my couch and kiss me some more, you gorgeous man, but he figures that would throw off Jack’s plan. And he has already learned enough about Jack to understand that plans are important to him.

“That would be lovely, sir,” Bitty responds, a grin stretching across his face.

*****  
They had gone round and round about where to eat for dinner, Jack trying to get Bitty to choose a place, and Bitty unable to make up his mind. Finally they had settled on Harvest, an upscale restaurant tucked away down a side street in Harvard Square. Bitty had read that it was a good date night location. 

The host sat them at a table in the back corner, and all the staff seemed particularly well behaved. Bitty wondered if Jack had prepped them ahead of time, or if they were just so used to celebrities coming by that they understood not to make a big deal out of it.

Jack ordered them a bottle of wine, although Bitty noticed that once again, just like on Thanksgiving, he didn’t seem to take more than a sip or two. He didn’t want to ask Jack about it, in case it made him feel uncomfortable. But when Jack went to refill Bitty’s glass and saw Bitty take note of Jack’s mostly full one, Jack spoke up.

“I don’t drink very much. Alcohol consumption was discouraged with the meds I used to take, so I got out of the habit,” Jack says matter of factly.

“I didn’t mean – you don’t have to tell me anything,” Bitty responds quickly.

“I don’t mind telling you,” Jack says, and he’s being truthful, Bity can tell, his posture still relaxed. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“No?”

Jack shakes his head. “No. Trying to cover things up doesn’t go well for me. I learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Is that why you came out last year?”

Jack nods. “Yeah. I should have done it sooner, really. But even before that, I tried to be open about everything else – my anxiety, rehab. Sometimes it’s hard to talk about, but it’s better in the long run.”

“That’s very brave,” Bitty says, but Jack looks away, biting his lip. He might not want to keep secrets, but Jack clearly isn’t comfortable with compliments. “No, it is,” Bitty touches him on the arm, holds his hand there until Jack looks at him. “I can’t imagine having the entire world know about my private life.”

Jack squeezes his eyes together in mostly mock distress. “I hope it’s not the entire world.”

Bitty laughs. “Okay, the entire hockey watching population.”

“I’d say you get used to it, but… I try to think about all the kids out there who might be dealing with similar issues, and now they see that they aren’t alone,” Jack says seriously. “I think it would have helped me, to know that you could get through problems like this, and still have a good life.”

Bitty is speechless, struck for a moment with the weight of Jack’s experience.

“I’m sorry,” Jack says, rubbing his palms on his pants, “that’s way too much for a first date, isn’t it?”

Bitty grabs one of Jack’s hands and squeezes it. “No, don’t apologize. Thank you for telling me. I want to know you.”

Jack smiles, reassured. “You do, eh?”

“I sure do, Mr. Zimmermann.”

*****  
They have finished their entrees and Bitty excuses himself to use the restroom. He’s having an amazing time, and although it’s getting late, he really doesn’t want the night to end. Jack is just so easy to talk to, Bitty thinks they could sit here forever and never run out of things to say.

He gets turned around on his way back to their table, and winds up passing through the bar area, which is filled with patrons. A waiter carrying a small tray of drinks steps aside to let him pass, and then lets out a low whistle.

“Hey, you’re the guy with Zimmermann, aren’t you? What’s he like? Are those soft hands of his just as good off the ice? Bet he’s pretty good at stick handling, am I right?”

Bitty freezes, and the patron coming through behind him almost bumps right into him. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

The waiter opens his mouth to continue, eyes wide and curious, when the bartender appears next to him and claps a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nothing he’s ever going to repeat,” the bartender says, “at least not in this restaurant. Sir, I am so sorry, please accept our apologies-”

“What’s going on here?” A man in a dark suit approaches and takes in the scene. “Is there a problem?”

“This guy should probably wait for you in the back,” the bartender says, nodding at the waiter. “He made a very inappropriate comment to our guest.” The bartender leans in and whispers in the man’s ear, and the man goes still.

“Sir, I am so very sorry,” the man says, echoing the bartender’s words. He goes on to introduce himself as the manager, and apologizes profusely, while the bartender escorts the waiter away.

“It’s fine,” Bitty says, but he’s shaking as he tries to disengage himself from the situation and go back to their table. 

The manager trails him, continuing to murmur apologies and assurances that the waiter will no longer be working at their fine establishment.

Jack stands up when he sees Bitty and the manager coming towards him. 

“Eric, what happened?”

Bitty shakes his head and sits down. His face is burning, and he can hardly look up as the manager explains the situation to Jack, apologizes yet again, and tells them the meal is on the house. 

Jack’s tone as he answers the man is flat and devoid of emotion. Cold. Bitty doesn’t recognize him. It’s a little scary.

But then Jack is leaning close to him, a solid hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” His voice is gentle again, the Jack he knows.

He risks a glance up at Jack, sees the concern in his eyes, and lets out a long breath. “I’m fine.” He’s not, not quite, but Jack’s quiet presence is soothing, even here in the middle of the restaurant. He takes a few deep breaths, and finds himself calming down. “Really, I’m okay. Just kind of caught me by surprise.”

A flash of guilt washes over Jack’s face, and he frowns. “That’s my fault. I should have warned you…” Jack’s expression closes off, and he sits back in his chair. “Going out with me… people say things… this…” He shakes his head. “This isn’t fair to you.”

“Hey, none of that,” Bitty says, poking Jack’s thigh with his knee. “People acting like that - it’s not exactly fair to you, either.”

Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “No? I get paid to be a public figure. I came out voluntarily, knowing what would happen. I -”

“If you’re about to say you asked for it, you close your mouth right now,” Bitty says firmly. 

Jack presses his lips together. “I know. But it’s hard to stay positive when just taking you out for dinner is impossible.”

“It’s not impossible.” Bitty looks down at the remnants of his veal piccata. “I had a very nice dinner, right up until a few minutes ago. And at least we don’t have to pay for it.” Bitty grins lopsidedly at Jack; he knows paying for the meal really isn’t an issue for him.

“I just really wanted you to have a good time tonight,” Jack says sadly.

“Now, Jack,” Bitty sighs out, grabbing Jack’s hand and tugging him up. “Don’t pout. I am having a good time. And who said the night’s over?”

This wins a smile from Jack, and they square their shoulders and head out into the night. It may have been a challenging moment, but as far as Bitty is concerned, he’s not going to let some nosy jerk get in the way of his long-awaited date night. 

They stop for froyo, Jack laughing as Bitty orders chocolate and piles it high with gummy bears and peanut butter cups, while Jack chooses plain with kiwi and blueberries. By the time they make it back to Bitty’s apartment, the stress of the incident at the restaurant has been completely forgotten.

Bitty invites Jack inside, but he shakes his head sadly. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow for a roadie,” he explains. “And I know if I come inside, I’m not going to want to leave.”

Bitty is disappointed, but he can tell from the expression on Jack’s face that he is, too, so it’s not so bad. “Thank you for a wonderful night,” Bitty says.

“You’re welcome,” Jack replies. There’s further apology in his eyes, and Bitty leans up on his toes to kiss it away.

When he pulls back Jack grins at him, then steps down a step, so that Bitty doesn’t have to stretch so much to reach his lips. “Better?” Jack asks, after they kiss again. 

“It’s all good,” Bitty murmurs, leaning his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you while you’re gone, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Jack cups his cheek and kisses him again, and this time Bitty feels it all the way down to his toes. “Study hard.”

Studying is the last thing on Bitty’s mind as he watches Jack walk away down the block. _This boy is going to be the death of me,_ he thinks giddily, as he goes inside. _How did I get so lucky?_

 

*****

Bitty exits Langdell, where he has been forcing himself to sit quietly in the library and write the driest paper ever for the past three hours, and braces himself for the dark, cold walk back to his apartment. He’s contemplating whether he has anything interesting to eat for dinner when he hears Shitty call his name.

“Bitty! Hold up!”

Shitty jogs towards him, then drops his backpack on the ground and starts to rummage around inside it.

“Brah, look what I have!” Shitty exclaims, shoving something in his face.

Bitty laughs and takes the items from Shitty. “Tickets?” It’s hard to read them in the dark.

“Fuck, yeah! Three tickets to Jack’s home game tomorrow night. Please tell me you can come, bro, I tried to figure out your schedule and Jack will have my head if I got it wrong.”

A warm feeling spreads through Bitty’s chest. “Jack wants me to come?”

Shitty mimes hitting himself on the head. “Yes, dude, come on, how many times do I have to tell you? Guy’s crazy about you!” Shitty swings his backpack over his shoulder and starts walking, and Bitty joins him. “Let’s go get dinner, and I’ll catch you up on all the Bruins gossip. Get you ready to burst your NHL cherry.”

*****  
“So, is Lardo going to meet us there?” Bitty asks. They’re having burritos again, he and Shitty crowded around Bitty’s coffee table. Bitty is determined to get some studying in before heading out to Jack’s game, but right now their law books and flashcards are shoved over to one side.

“What? Oh, no, Lards can’t come.”

“That’s too bad.”

Shitty looks like he’s trying to hide a smirk, and Bitty smacks his arm. “What aren’t you telling me, Shitty Knight?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, or no pie for you.”

Shitty shakes his head, grinning.

“I made a lemon chiffon yesterday, and there’s almost half of it left.”

Shitty pretends to consider. “I don’t think I’ve ever had lemon chiffon.”

“And you never will, if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

Shitty laughs. “You drive a hard bargain, my little bro. Well, I’m not terribly upset that Larissa can’t make it tomorrow night, because… she may have agreed to spend a week with me after Christmas. Apparently she never learned how to ski, and she’s always wanted to try…”

“Shitty – that’s awesome!”

“It is, my friend, indeed it is.”

The subject of the third ticket is forgotten, as they finish eating their burritos and Bitty goes to get them some pie. 

“I don’t know, Bits, I still think you should bring me pie every day for lunch. With how many of these you make, I don’t see how you don’t drown in the stuff.”

“I manage just fine, Shitty. And besides, Dex likes pie too.”

Shitty looks blankly at him for a minute, then nods. “Dex, your imaginary roommate.”

Bitty huffs at him. “He is not imaginary. He’s just… busy.”

“Must be convenient for night-time rendezvous with a certain Canadian beaut,” Shitty jokes.

Bitty blushes. Even though he hasn’t had a chance for the type of rendezvous with Jack that would require privacy, the idea has crossed his mind. Suddenly a thought dawns on him.

“Could I offer Dex the third ticket? If you haven’t given it to anyone else yet?”

“Sure thing. Does he like hockey?”

*****  
Turns out, Dex really likes hockey. 

“I played at Boston College for three years, until I messed up my knee,” Dex explains, pointing to the B.C. Hockey hoodie he is proudly wearing. The red hoodie kind of clashes with his ginger hair, but Bitty supposes that’s not really important. “Defense.”

Bitty is sitting between Dex and Shitty at TD Garden, waiting for the game to start. Shitty’s wearing a Zimmerman jersey – he had offered it to Bitty, but Bitty didn’t want to be presumptuous, choosing to wear a simple sweater over a button-down instead. He’s aware as soon as they arrive that he is overdressed, but since it’s freezing in here he’ll probably keep his coat on most of the time anyway.

“Tell me again about what you’re studying,” Shitty asks Dex. “Bitty tried to explain it, but he’s kind of hopeless sometimes, isn’t he?” Bitty is full of nervous tension for some reason, and he thinks Shitty can tell, quizzing Dex good naturedly to distract Bitty. 

Dex launches into a detailed discussion of something having to do with computer code (Bitty is more than willing to accept the “hopeless” label on this one), and it isn’t long before the game begins.

It goes by in a flash, Bitty’s stomach tensing whenever Jack is on the ice. At some point he realizes Shitty has his arm around him, but it doesn’t seem to help – when Jack’s on the ice he’s either worried that Jack is going to get checked, or worried that he’ll miss a shot, and when he’s not on the ice he’s wondering why. He had no idea watching Jack play would be this stressful.

Shitty tries to keep Bitty entertained with a stream of commentary, but Bitty hardly hears it. Dex, on the other hand, is almost completely silent, watching intently with his chin resting on his hands, occasionally yelling his approval or disapproval at something that happens on the ice.

Finally it’s over, a nice win for the Bruins. Shitty stands up and ushers them out, but they don’t turn towards the exit.

“Shitty? Where’re we going?” Bitty asks.

“The locker room,” Shitty responds.

Dex’s face lights up. “Really? That’s awesome.” 

Bitty isn’t so sure. He hasn’t talked to Jack about this – does Jack really want him back there, with the whole team? It’s one thing to be out, but another for Jack’s team to actually see Jack with another guy. Although Bitty supposes he isn’t really _with_ Jack, they’ve just been on one date, it’s not as if they’re engaged or anything.

Shitty doesn’t seem to notice Bitty’s hesitance, as he’s too busy chatting with the various staff people they have to pass through to get to the locker room. It’s loud and crowded as they make their way back, and everyone seems to be at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Bitty… and sweaty, too.

They make it inside, and Bitty hangs back as Shitty wraps Jack in a bear hug. Jack has already changed into his street clothes, although some of the other players are still in various stages of undress. Bitty tries to keep his eyes down, or at least, firmly away from any inappropriate areas.

Apparently Shitty has met some of Jack’s teammates before, and a few come over to say hello. Jack makes some introductions, then sees Bitty standing over by the door.

“Thanks for coming,” Jack says, grabbing Bitty’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Did you like the game?”

Bitty’s a little stunned, and quickly glances around without answering. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay, to come back here with your teammates. Shitty just brought me along…”

Jack looks at him quizzically. “I invited you.”

“I know, but…”

Jack seems to get it, and nods. “It’s okay. Really. Everyone’s cool. I even told them you were coming.”

Bitty doesn’t see anyone giving them dirty looks, although two hulking guys still in their jerseys are grinning at him and giving Jack the “thumbs up” sign, which makes Bitty blush furiously.

“Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.”

Bitty can’t keep their names straight, and he knows he should recognize more of them, but it all passes by in a whirlwind of greetings and good-natured smirks. After the third comment along the lines of “oh, you’re the guy Zimms can’t shut up about” Bitty relaxes. Apparently Jack has managed to find the most tolerant hockey team in existence.

“Not entirely,” Jack says later, when they are ensconced in a booth in a dark bar, Jack and Bitty on one side, Shitty and Dex on the other. “When I came out, some people were definitely not all that well behaved about it. Management took a pretty hard line.”

This is more like what Bitty was expecting, although it wasn’t apparent at all tonight. “What happened?”

“One of them isn’t on the team any more. The others just keep their mouths shut.” Jack doesn’t look like he wants to go into any more detail, so Bitty just nods, and tunes back into the conversation Shitty and Dex are having about the pros and cons of various burrito restaurants in the Harvard Square area, a topic that is apparently as close to Dex’s heart as it is to Shitty’s. 

At some point Bitty notices that Jack has gone quiet. He’s leaning his head heavily on his hand, and he’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Hey,” Bitty says softly, putting a hand on Jack’s leg under the table. “You look exhausted.”

Jack blinks at him and sits up straighter. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Bitty smiles. “You are, indeed. But you are also exhausted.” 

On the sidewalk outside the bar, Jack calls an Uber for the three of them; he’s headed in a different direction, back towards his condo. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your game,” Bitty says. Shitty and Dex have walked over to the corner, clearly trying to give them some space. Or maybe still debating burritos, Bitty isn’t sure.

“Thank you for coming,” Jack says, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his coat pockets. 

Bitty studies him, wondering again at how such a successful man can be so very shy. He reaches up to push a stray lock of hair off Jack’s forehead, and Jack smiles softly.

“Can I have a goodnight kiss?” Bitty asks, tilting his head.

Jack’s smile spreads across his face, lighting up his tired eyes. “Of course.” Jack’s hands come up to cup Bitty’s face and he kisses him slow and sweet. Bitty sags against him when they part; he smells so good, like the shampoo he used after the game, and the scent of his aftershave. Bitty would like to stay right here for the rest of the night, and from the way Jack wraps his arms around him, Jack might not mind, either. 

Then Jack sways and Bitty grabs him tighter, looking up at him and laughing. “You really need to get to sleep,” he says lightly.

Jack steps away, nodding wryly. “It’s past my bedtime.”

Conveniently the car pulls up, and Shitty and Dex return, Shitty giving Jack another hug before he gets into the car with Dex.

“I’ll text you,” Jack says, leaning in to give Bitty another quick kiss before he gets into the car. 

“You better,” Bitty replies. He shuffles into the seat, pressed in close next to Shitty. Jack waves as they pull away, and Bitty lets his eyes fall closed. It was a good night, all things considered, even with the stress of the game, and the confusion about how people would view them. It was good because he was with Jack. Bitty wonders if that’s the key to all of this relationship stuff – find someone that makes all of life’s road bumps worthwhile. He thinks maybe it is.


	4. Chapter 4

Going home to Madison for Christmas is like entering another world. It’s great to see his mama and Coach, of course, but Bitty had managed to forget how stifling life in this small southern town can be.

He hasn’t been home since the end of his first year, when he spent the first few weeks of June here, before heading back north for a summer internship with Greater Boston Legal Services. It had been a good visit, and Bitty had finally come out to his parents. They had reacted calmly, all things considered, and since then, Bitty had assumed that his sexuality was no longer an issue.

But Bitty hadn’t considered how his relatives would react.

As he discovers on Christmas Eve, crammed into his aunt and uncle’s living room with all of his Moo Maw’s four children and their families, the short answer is – not well.

Aunt Lila has been shooting nasty glances at him all night, and redirected her eleven year old twins when they asked Bitty to play video games with them. Uncle Jim stutters whenever he looks in his direction, and Aunt Margie, who never said no to a pie in her life, turned up her nose at Bitty’s cranberry-pumpkin mini-pies.

Bitty retreats to the kitchen, where his grandmother is holding court at the table, with several older cousins and his Aunt Susan gathered around. The two boys – Glenn and James, who play football at the University of Georgia, immediately get up and leave the room when Bitty sits down. Susan looks embarrassed, but doesn’t comment.

Bitty feels his eyes fill with tears, and he dashes out of the room and into the bathroom, where he takes deep breaths and wipes his eyes. He was looking forward to tonight, but apparently he is no longer welcome in the Bittle extended family. 

He sits down on the lid of the toilet, eyes wandering to the kitchy decorations on the wall. “Family – forever, for always, no matter what,” reads one plaque. “Home is where they always have to take you in.” Empty words, apparently.

Bitty stands up, straightens his clothes (he wore his favorite red sweater with a white button-down underneath, neat khakis and new shoes), and goes back out to the living room. He finds his mother quickly, and pulls her aside.

“I’ve got a really bad headache, mama. Do you think someone can give you and Coach a ride back, if I head home?”

His mother looks concerned, and Bitty immediately feels guilty, but it’s too late now. “Oh, sweetheart, are you okay? Do you want some tea? I think I have some pills in my bag.” 

Bitty stops her before she empties her whole pocketbook out on the hall table, and shakes his head. “I just need some rest, I think.”

“Of course, dear. You’ve been working so hard. Just say goodbye to your grandmother first.”

It is quickly established that any number of cousins can give his parents a lift home, and Bitty escapes outside, the keys to his dad’s truck clutched in his hand. 

Back at home, he hears his phone ping with a text as he climbs the stairs to his bedroom, but he waits until he has changed into pajamas and buried himself in the covers before he reads it.

“Just wanted to wish you a happy Christmas,” Jack has texted him. “Hope you are enjoying it.”

Suddenly the tears have returned, and there’s no longer any reason to hold them back. Bitty buries his face in his pillow and lets himself cry for a few minutes. It hurts too much – the happiness he feels, knowing Jack is thinking about him, is the very reason his own flesh and blood are disgusted with him.

“It could be better,” Bitty finally texts back.

“What do you mean?” Jack replies.

Shit, Bitty thinks. He should have just said “Merry Christmas” back. But he knows why he told Jack the truth, even if it’s hard to face. He needs someone to talk to.

“The extended fam wasn’t entirely pleased with the news about me, it turns out.”

A minute later, his phone rings. It’s Jack, of course.

“Eric? Where are you? What happened?”

“I’m home, in bed. Don’t worry, I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound okay. Where’s your family?”

“Still at my aunt and uncle’s, with everyone else.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bitty sighs, and curls around the phone. “Maybe just for a minute?”

He hears steps, and a door closing. “I’m in my room, too. My mom and dad are downstairs with friends.”

“It’s just that… when I came out to my parents last summer, they said they were fine with it, they still loved me, I’ll always be their son, all the right things. I guess I figured I was safe. I had rolled the dice and won – my parents were accepting, nothing was gonna change, someday they’d host a great big happy gay wedding for me and my husband with all the pie we could eat, and we’d all ride off into the sunset. But it turns out I was fooling myself.”

“Did someone say something?”

“Not directly. But I got such awful looks. From people who are supposed to love me. Who did love me, as far as I knew, until they found out…” Bitty sniffs hard, determined not to break down while talking to Jack. “It felt terrible.”

“Do you want me to come down there?”

Bitty blinks, surprised. “What?”

“Sorry, that’s probably too much, right?” He hears Jack sigh. “I know I haven’t even known you that long, Eric, but… if you wanted, I’d come down there.”

Bitty doesn’t immediately respond – and it’s not because he’s upset, he’s actually trying to breathe through the wave of emotion and disbelief that is washing over him.

“I’m sorry, Eric, ignore me. I’m such an idiot. I’ve never had a… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No no no, Jack,” Bitty finally bursts out. “You are not an idiot. You are the sweetest thing, and I” – I love you, he wants to say, but just barely pivots away – “I can’t thank you enough for offering. But I’m only here for a week, I can handle it.”

“I know you can. It’s just… it’s hard, sometimes.” There’s a pause. “I came out to the team by accident, you know.” 

“You did? But I read the articles- it looked like you planned it so carefully.”

Jack barks out a laugh. “Yeah, well, the Bruins have a great media team. But they only had to do it because I screwed up.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack clears his throat. “I had more or less planned on coming out last summer, after the season was over. Didn’t want to disrupt our playoff push, eh? But then during a rough play one of the guys said to me “what are you, a fag?” and I brilliantly responded “yeah, I am.”

“Oh, lord. Who were you playing?”

“It was one of my teammates, actually, during a practice.”

“And he actually said that to you?”

“Um, yeah… guys say shit like that all the time. I thought about taking it back, trying to make it into a joke, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do it anymore. And he could see my face – he knew what had happened. It was over. So I skated off the ice and went to talk to HR.”

Bitty thinks about that night at the game, in the locker room with the other Bruins. “Your teammates all seemed pretty friendly when I met them.”

“Yeah, but it took a little time. And there’s still some room for improvement.” Jack doesn’t sound sad when he says this, and Bitty isn’t sure if he is covering or not.

“Are you glad you came out?”

His answer is immediate. “Yes. Absolutely. The stress of wondering when they’d find out, and how… it wasn’t good for me. I can take the badmouthing. At least it’s honest.”

“And your team – at least some of them – have your back?”

“They do.” There’s a pause, and Bitty hears a bed creak. He wishes he was there with Jack, snuggling under the covers. He could really use a hug. “You know, Eric… I don’t know them, and I could be off base, but maybe your family has your back, too. More of them than you realize.”

“It didn’t feel that way tonight.”

“But your mom and dad are good with it, right? And of the ones who were jerks tonight, I bet some of them will come around once they see you’re still you. You probably haven’t even had a chance to talk to them since they heard about it from your parents.”

Bitty presses his lips together. He’s not in a particularly forgiving mood, but Jack does have a point. “You think if I go over to my Aunt Susan’s house and confront her, that will help?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t know her at all. But I found that some of the guys who were really uncomfortable at first just kind of forgot about it once they realized nothing had changed. Practices went on, games went on, we all still played together and I still scored.”

Bitty laughs. “You do have the advantage of being one of the most successful players in the NHL, if what I read online is true.”

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice is quieter, now. “It probably would have been harder, without that. They want to win, and as long as I can help them, they’re willing to overlook my flaws.”

“Your sexuality is not a flaw,” Bitty interrupts.

“Well, I should hope you don’t think so,” Jack says, sounding like he’s biting back a laugh.

“Jack Zimmermann, we were having a very serious conversation here.”

“We were. And I am serious – that’s why I wanted to come out sooner rather than later. Given how much teams want me, what I can do for them, it’s different than if I were a less valuable player, as arrogant as that sounds. I figured I should take the leap and go first.”

“And yet it was still hard.”

“Yeah.”

Bitty opens his mouth to continue, but interrupts himself with a yawn. “Lord, I’m sorry. I guess my overdramatic fit has worn me out.”

“Eric, you are not being overdramatic. You’re hurt.”

That’s the heart of it, Bitty knows. It does hurt. But talking with Jack has definitely eased the pain. “Thank you for talking with me.”

“Of course. I wish I could do something to help.”

“Believe me, you have.”

The next afternoon, while cleaning up the kitchen after a comforting pie-making session with his mother, Bitty tells her the real reason he left the party the night before. Suzanne listens, and Bitty cries a little, and she holds him tight. She hadn’t realized, she says, and she won’t stand for it. 

Together they come up with a plan for some one-on-one visits with a few of Bitty’s more liberal relatives. A chance to have tea, and talk, and maybe go a little way towards letting them know that Bitty is still the same sweet boy he always was – and that treating him differently will not be tolerated by the Bittles. And then they pull out the flour and sugar and make a few more pies, because regardless of the reason for the social call, they both know pie will always help.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack can’t wait to see Eric when he gets back from Madison. Jack’s halfway considering meeting Eric at the airport, but his fantasy of picking him up at Logan with a bouquet of welcome home flowers is dashed when Jack realizes he’s got a game at the same time Eric’s flight gets in.

The next morning, Eric tells him he has a nasty cold, and can’t make their dinner date. “It’s been dragging on forever,” Eric says, followed by a coughing fit. “I’m just so tired from coughing for days. I’d be terrible company.”

Jack leaves on a four day roadie the next morning, however, and he really, really wants to see Eric before he goes. So he texts Dex (that four-way group text Shitty sent after he came to the Bruins game turns out to be very handy for finding out Dex’s number) and makes a plan.

It’s late afternoon, the sun already almost down, when Jack gets to Eric’s apartment in Cambridge. He shoots a quick text to Dex, careful not to drop the bag of groceries he’s holding. Dex promptly lets him in as he slides out the door with an awed look at Jack, one Dex repeats several times as he heads off towards campus. Jack shakes his head. He has to remember to get Dex tickets to another game. 

Jack comes inside the house, locks the door behind him, and looks around. No sign of Eric. He puts the grocery bag down on the kitchen counter and lays his coat on a chair. He’s suddenly nervous – what if this was a bad idea? What if Eric doesn’t want to see him?

He takes the Gatorade out of the grocery bag and puts it in the refrigerator. He knows he’s just buying time, but taking a few moments to steady his breathing seems like a decent idea at this point.

“Dex?” a voice comes from Eric’s bedroom. “There’s no pie, I’m so sorry. I was gonna make one today like I said, but I guess I just went back to sleep…”

Jack grins. Of course Eric’s first thought is pie.

He clears his throat and walks to the open bedroom door. “Um, it’s not Dex. It’s me.”

Eric sits up, the blankets falling away. He’s wearing a striped tank top that reveals toned arms, and his hair is adorably mussed. “Jack? What are you doing here?”

Jack tries to keep calm, not sure yet if that’s a pleased exclamation or not. “Dex let me in. I just wanted to check on you. I won’t stay, if you don’t want me to.” He steps into Eric’s bedroom, and relaxes as a smile spreads across Eric’s face.

“I told you I wouldn’t be good company tonight,” Eric says lightly, running a hand through his hair.

Jack shrugs. “Matter of opinion.” He stands there awkwardly for a moment, then remembers. “Have you had dinner? There’s a deli near me that makes the best chicken soup, I stopped on my way over, so...”

“You brought me soup?” Eric’s eyes are wide.

“I always get it when I’m sick. Makes my throat feel better. I thought you might like it, too.”

Eric sits up straighter, tucks the blankets around his legs. “I’d love some soup. But – Jack – you really shouldn’t be here. You can’t afford to get sick.”

“You’ve been sick for days. You’re not contagious anymore.”

Eric slides the blankets away and lets his legs fall over the side of the bed, then gets up, a little shaky. Jack definitely does not focus on the very, very short shorts Eric is wearing.

“Well, if I’m gonna be responsible for giving the Bruins’ star player the plague, I might as well get some soup out of it,” Eric says, smiling sunnily up at Jack.

They go out to the living room, and Eric makes himself comfortable on the couch while Jack gets them each a bowl of soup. It has cooled a bit on his way in from Boston, so Jack warms it up in the microwave. While it’s heating he brings Eric a glass of water, and a bottle of the yellow Gatorade.

“I didn’t know if you like this stuff, but you’re probably dehydrated,” he explains, setting it down on the coffee table. Eric has been watching his preparations curiously, and Jack wants to squirm under the attention. “What?”

Eric smiles fondly at him. “Nothing. And, yes, Gatorade is fine. Although some tea with honey would be nice, too.”

Jack frowns and turns to go back to the kitchen and make tea, but Eric catches him with a hand on his wrist. “I was kidding, Jack. This is perfect.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, let me get the soup.”

They eat their soup in relative quiet, broken only by a long coughing fit which has Jack cringing and rubbing Eric’s back. When Eric catches his breath, Jack shows him the cough drops he brought.

“Guess I should have offered these earlier,” he says.

Eric looks through the grocery bag and grins. “Couldn’t decide which ones to buy?”

It’s true, he couldn’t. So he brought a few different kinds. “I guess favorite flavors of cough drops hasn’t come up in conversation yet.”

Eric pulls a bag of honey lemon ones out and sets it on the table. “This one, for the record.” He coughs again, and Jack takes the bag and opens it up, offers it to Eric.

“Thanks.”

Eric sits back against the couch and closes his eyes. He’s tired, and Jack thinks maybe this is his signal to go. He stacks their soup bowls, about to bring them into the kitchen and wash up, but before he gets far Eric’s hand is on his arm again.

“Stay for a while?”

“Sure.” The dishes can wait, he thinks. Jack settles himself down on the couch, and Eric twists to rest with his head on Jack’s lap, pulling a throw blanket over himself. Jack practically holds his breath as Eric gets comfortable. He hadn’t expected this. Maybe Eric is just cuddly when he’s not feeling well.

Slowly, Jack lowers a hand to Eric’s head, and pushes his messy hair back from his face. He does it a few times, rubbing Eric’s scalp with his fingertips.

Eric hums in appreciation. “That feels good.”

They hadn’t even bothered to put a movie on, and it’s calm sitting there together. Jack closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the feeling of being close to Eric, his warm body resting against his thighs, his steady breathing interrupted only by the occasional cough.

After what seems like a long time, Eric squirms a little, repositioning himself so that he’s more on his back, looking up at Jack.

“Eric? Can I get you anything? I brought cough syrup, too. I think it’s vile, personally, but Shitty swears by it.”

But Eric is apparently uninterested in cough syrup. “I like that you call me Eric.”

Jack blinks, surprised at the change in topic. “I know,” he replies, without really thinking about it. He remembers that conversation about nicknames, at the Cape house on Thanksgiving. It was something about Eric’s face that day, the look in his eyes when Jack said his name… after that, he never considered calling him anything else.

Eric bends his knees and turns to face Jack, his head still resting on Jack’s leg. “Shitty says you’re not good with people. But you’re good with me.”

Jack can feel his face warm. He’s not sure where this is going, but it doesn’t seem bad. “Shitty also says I have laser focus.”

Eric’s mouth tugs up in a sideways grin. “And you just so happen to be focused on me,” he flirts back.

“I am,” Jack says, nodding.

“Well.” Eric turns back over and pulls the blankets up around him, snuggling in against Jack. “Good.” But Eric doesn’t seem sleepy, and he fidgets. Jack doesn’t see how he could still be comfortable in this position, it’s got to be hurting his neck by now.

He takes a chance, sliding down so that he is stretched out on the couch with his head on the pillow by the arm. Eric, much to Jack’s delight, follows easily, curling up against Jack’s side with his head on Jack’s chest. They fit together perfectly.

“How did you wind up at Charlie’s Kitchen? With Lardo, that night we met?” Eric asks.

Jack smiles, not just at the welcome memory, but because Eric wants to keep talking. About the two of them. He thinks it’s a pretty good story.

He takes in a deep breath, and wonders how far back to go. “You know Shitty and I have been friends for a long time.”

“Um-hm.”

“When I went to Samwell… my first year was pretty lonely. It was kind of strange, for me, being at college. Hockey was easy, that was normal, but everything else… it took some getting used to.” Always worrying that people knew more than they were saying about him, trying to be prepared for the inevitable “oh, you’re Jack Zimmermann” moment that came so often – or even if it didn’t, having entire days ruined by the fear that it would.

Eric’s hand has found its way to Jack’s shoulder, and he runs it down his arm to his hand, tangling their fingers together. “That was before Shitty, I’m guessing?”

Jack nods. “Yeah. My sophomore year, I’m moving into the house where the hockey players lived, and in comes this crazy guy with a wild mustache-”

“His freshman year, he had a mustache?”

“I know, right? And the funny thing was, even though he didn’t live in the Haus, he was always there. He didn’t have any problem with stopping by and hanging out at all times of day or night. He’d barge into my room and start talking to me about his classes, and hockey practice, and wanting to know all about the other players, and where was he supposed to do his laundry, and whether I wanted to watch a movie with him… He didn’t seem to care that he had to do most of the talking, or that I didn’t want to go to parties. He just decided to be my friend.”

Jack clears his throat and pauses. He hadn’t meant to get quite that detailed about his friendship with Shitty. But Eric doesn’t seem to mind, rubbing his thumb over Jack’s knuckles, and nodding against his chest. “He kind of did that with me, too.”

Jack smiles against Eric’s head. “He’s like that. Anyway, fast forward to now, I didn’t notice at first that Shitty was having such a tough time this fall. I should have caught it. But I was occupied with the team, and Shitty just kept saying he was too busy with school to get together, and it took me a while to realize he wasn’t his usual self.”

“When did you figure it out?”

Jack huffs out a laugh. “When he started talking about you.”

Eric twists up to look at Jack. “What do you mean?”

“Well, all of a sudden Shitty had a million reasons to call me. He wasn’t avoiding me anymore, and he always had things he wanted to talk about. At least, he’d say he wanted to talk about other things – the terrible food in the cafeteria, the way the dorm rooms smelled like feet, the tedious reading he had to do for his property class. It made me realize how we hadn’t really been having real conversations, before that.”

“I still don’t get it,” Eric says. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Well, no matter what he said he wanted to talk about, every conversation seemed to turn to you, this amazing second year student who made him pie and cheered him up, who was skating through law school like it was a vacation, not a prison sentence.”

“Okay, that is entirely untrue,” Eric says, taking their clasped hands and poking Jack in the chest with them. “I’m not skating through law school. It’s as hard for me as it is for everyone else. Second year is just a lot easier than first year.”

“Well, Shitty was impressed. And… I was curious.”

Eric squeezes Jack’s hand. “Oh?”

“Yes. Shitty’s a pretty enthusiastic guy-”

“No, really?” Eric interrupts.

“But this was different. He was really taken with you.”

“But Lardo still holds his heart,” Eric prompts, and Jack laughs.

“For sure. I think she took it when they met freshman year, and he hasn’t wanted it back ever since. Even though it took him forever to do anything about it. So, anyway, when Shitty started babbling on about how you had encouraged him to invite her out, on top of everything else he had told me, I knew I had to meet you.”

Eric smiles up at Jack, and then settles back down, nestling against Jack’s shoulder. “Well then, I suppose I owe Shitty a thank you.”

“Me, too,” Jack says softly.

“Think he’d take it in pie?”

Jack laughs. “I’m sure he would.” Jack lets his eyes fall closed and breathes deeply, the warmth of Eric’s body against his own making him sleepy. He hasn’t done this before, just slept together with someone, unless you count Shitty – and he’s not counting Shitty. Things with Kent were never this calm. Never felt this right.

“Eric?” He’s got to say it now, he can’t not say it any more. It feels so safe, lying here with Eric. He doesn’t think he could imagine a better time.

And Eric apparently hears something in his voice, knows Jack isn’t just going to ask if he wants another cough drop. He rises up on an elbow, finding Jack’s eyes. “Yeah?”

He bites his lip. It’s now or never. “Eric, this… us… it’s good, right?” God, you’re an idiot, Jack thinks, as Eric just gazes back at him. He thinks he can feel his heart about to pound right out of his chest.

“Yes. It’s very good,” Eric finally replies, a soft smile spreading across his face. He tilts his head at Jack, and his smile gets wider as Jack fails to come up with anything else to say. “Jack? Are you saying you want to be boyfriends?”

Oh, thank god, he said it, Jack thinks to himself, and pulls Eric into a tight hug. “Yeah. Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Me too,” Eric says, snuggling closer into Jack’s embrace. 

Jack sighs, relaxing as Eric rests his head on his shoulder. He threads his fingers through Eric’s hair, and breathes out slowly. “I could have said that better.”

Eric sits up and looks pointedly around the room, the remains of their chicken soup sitting next to the three bags of cough drops and the bottle of Gatorade. “I think you said it very well.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bitty's in the basement of what passes for a fraternity house at Harvard Law, leaning against the wall with a solo cup of cheap beer in his hand. The reason he's here at all claps him on the back and grins, waving his free arm at the crowd in front of them.

"So, what d’ya say, brah? Great party, isn't it?"

Bitty isn't completely sure if Shitty is being serious or not. "Um, sure." It's not the worst party he's ever been at, although if he were in charge of the playlist there’d be a lot more Beyoncé.

Shitty wiggles his hips to the loud music and puts his hands on Bitty's shoulders. "Dance with me?"

"You're drunk, Shits," Bitty complains, but allows himself to be pulled on to the dance floor.

"Not really," Shitty says, leaning in to whisper in Bitty's ear. "But that douchebag from my civ pro class is here, and I'm damned if he's going to have a better time than me."

Bitty follows Shitty's glare and sees a tall, broad shouldered guy wearing a polo shirt with a turned up collar. He’s dancing with a bored looking redhead who seems to be reluctant to actually move her feet. "I think she's regretting wearing those shoes," Bitty comments. Never wear stilettos to a frat party, he thinks. The combination of free beer and large clumsy people leads to injured toes.

"Bet he played lacrosse," Shitty mumbles. 

Bitty has heard Shitty rant about the lax bros at Samwell before, and just laughs at his friend.

Dancing with Shitty turns out to be kind of fun, and it’s late by the time they leave. The frigid February air seems to freeze the sweat that has dripped down his back, and Bitty shivers as they wait to cross Mass Ave. 

“Thanks for coming with me, Bits,” Shitty says, wrapping his scarf more securely around his neck. 

“Anytime,” Bitty says. “I’m sorry Lardo couldn’t come. Are frat parties not her thing? Not that I’m judging her, mind you…”

“What? No, Lardo loves frat parties. Likes to beat all the guys at beer pong. I just thought it would be cool to hang out with you tonight. Given that Jack has been so busy and all.”

Bitty waits until they have crossed the street and then pokes Shitty in the arm. “You didn’t have to do that. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but Jack’s schedule is awful, isn’t it? I know he’s going nuts not being able to see you this week. Figured you might be feeling the same.”

Bitty feels a warmth spreading in his chest. He can’t help but fish for more information. “Oh? What did he say?”

Shitty turns to him, smirking. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“Um, yes? It is kind of hard to know what he’s thinking, sometimes. He’s not the most transparent guy.”

Shitty laughs. “Has he been sending you texts about the hotel rooms he stays in, and what’s in the mini-fridge? I got one rant about the lack of healthy snacks.”

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“You just need to turn those texts into more interesting conversations. You know, tell him what you’d like to be doing to him in those hotel rooms…”

Bitty can feel his blush spread across his face. “No, that’s not in the cards. I’m not even sure he’d be into that.”

Shitty stops in his tracks, and grabs Bitty’s arm to hold him in place. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bitty shrugs his arm out of Shitty’s hold and keeps walking. It’s too cold out to linger on the sidewalk. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”

Shitty follows him. “I’m his best friend, Bitty. I’m pretty familiar with the care and feeding of Jack Zimmermann. And I know for a fact that he’s into you. So I’d say I’m exactly the right person to be talking to about this.”

“Lord, you are persistent. Walk me home, and once we’ve had some pie I’ll consider it.”

They aren’t far from Bitty’s apartment, and it only takes a few minutes to make tea and cut them each a slice of Bitty’s latest creation, an apple pie with a maple sugar crust.

“Dude, this is awesome,” Shitty says, shoveling a huge bite into his mouth. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

“I thought Jack might appreciate it – maple and Canada and all that. I can make it for him next time I see him.” Bitty sighs. “Whenever that is.”

Shitty turns to him on the couch, his face thoughtful. “You’re really bummed out about something, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. It’s just – it’s harder than I thought it would be, I guess. I wish I could see him more. And then even when we do get together…”

“All sex and no conversation, right? I hear yah.”

Bitty nearly spits out his mouthful of tea. “No, Shitty, not at all. What universe are you living in?”

“Um, the one I thought you were living in, brah. With Jack, the hockey robot? Gorgeous bod, but doesn’t talk about his feelings?”

Bitty puts his mug down on the coffee table and picks up his plate, then thinks better of it. He isn’t really hungry for pie right now.

“Bits, what’s going on? Despite what I said before, you really don’t have to tell me anything. But maybe I can help.”

“We aren’t having… relations,” Bitty finally says into the silence. “We’ve been dating for months, and we never do more than kiss. I’m beginning to worry that he doesn’t like me that way. Or maybe he just doesn’t like that kind of thing. But I don’t know how to ask him. I don’t want to offend him, or upset him.” He draws in a deep breath. “I like him so much, Shitty. What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Shitty crosses his legs underneath himself and shakes his head. “He does, Bitty, he does. He’s fucking smitten with you, I promise. As for the sex thing… I’m not sure what’s up with that. But I am sure he’s got a reason, and it doesn’t have anything to do with not liking you. Maybe he’s not sure you’re ready? Or he’s just taking his time.”

“But I’m ready,” Bitty practically moans. “I’m so ready. I don’t want him to take his time.”

Shitty laughs, raising his eyebrows and making a ridiculous face. “Sorry, bro, but you know what you’re going to have to do now, don’t you?”

Bitty sighs, rubbing his face with his hand. “I have to talk to him about this, don’t I?”

Shitty nods and reaches for Bitty’s unfinished slice of pie. “Use your words, man. You’d be surprised at how well it works.”

*****

"Oh my lord, this is amazing," Bitty exclaims, looking around the kitchen in Jack's condo, an expanse of gleaming black granite countertops and glass fronted cabinetry. "Two ovens? Jack, how have you not told me about this?"

Jack huffs out a soft laugh. "I've invited you over before, Eric. But apparently you've got some strange obsession with studying."

Bitty turns to Jack, still smoothing his hands over the cool counters. "I am in law school, honey. And you haven’t been home much lately. More importantly, you didn't tell me about this kitchen. Complete lack of full disclosure." He starts opening drawers, and a sigh escapes him when he sees two rolling pins. "Why on earth would you need rolling pins, Mr. Zimmermann?" he asks, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

Jack shrugs, still the picture of innocence. "Thought they went well with the flour."

"The flour?"

Jack opens a tall cabinet, revealing a selection of flours, sugars, and other dry ingredients for baking. 

Bitty laughs, and bounces over to Jack, rising up on his toes to place a fond kiss on Jack's lips. "You are the cutest, you know that?"

Jack blushes, and ducks his head against Bitty's hair, as his hands find his waist.

"Hey," Bitty says, reaching up to cup Jack's face. "Really. This is amazing. You are amazing. And if we hadn't just had a huge dinner complete with a piece of tiramisu bigger than my head, I'd make you a pie right now." Jack had taken Bitty to an Italian place in the Back Bay not far from his apartment, where they had dined by candlelight. It was the perfect romantic evening. 

"You can use the kitchen any time you want,"Jack says, his blue eyes shy.

"Yeah?" Bitty asks. "Just for pie?" Maybe a little flirtation is what Jack needs to move things along.

Jack's brow scrunches in confusion. "Um, no, not just for pie. You can make whatever you..." His voice trails off as Bitty hikes himself up to sit on to the counter, and Jack starts to get the picture. 

Bitty pulls Jack closer, his hands on Jack's shoulders. He wraps his feet around Jack's legs and digs his heels into Jack’s thighs. Jack's eyes flicker down to Bitty’s lips, and back up to hold his gaze. It's a heady feeling, Bitty thinks, to be looked at like this by Jack. This man doesn't do anything halfway.

"Eric..." Jack breathes out, and Bitty can feel his heart rate speed up. So far so good.

"Yeah, baby. I'm right here." Bitty leans in to kiss Jack, who responds eagerly, one hand coming up to the back of Bitty's neck, the other tightening on his waist. Jack deepens the kiss, tongue coming out to tease at Bitty's lips, and Bitty opens his mouth and lets him explore.

Bitty wraps his arms around Jack and tugs him closer, until they are pressed together, chest to chest. Bitty decides to take matters into his own hands, so to speak, and slides a hand down to Jack's ass and gives it a squeeze. Promisingly, this causes Jack to fairly writhe against Bitty, a soft moan escaping from his throat. Then Jack freezes.

Bitty immediately moves his hand up to the small of Jack's back, and leans his face away just enough to see Jack's eyes. "Jack? You okay?"

Jack just blinks at him, and Bitty runs a hand through Jack's hair, smoothing his dark bangs away from his face.

"Too much?” Bitty asks. “I'm sorry if I-"

"No, no, don’t apologize," Jack says, eyes widening. "I just..." 

"What?"

"Surprised myself, I guess." Jack shakes his head. "It's been so long since I've felt this way about someone, Eric. I don't usually..." 

"Don't usually what, honey?"

"Go very far. With anyone. And I know you haven’t, and we shouldn’t be…” Jack steps back, his hands sliding down from Bitty’s shoulders to his elbows. 

Bitty is trying his hardest to absorb this – it seems like the issue might not just be Jack looking out for his poor virgin self, as he had thought. But he’s still not sure what’s going on.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Bitty says, as sincerely as he can. He chastises himself internally for not checking with Jack before launching himself at him – the conversation was supposed to happen _before_ the making out. But Jack just shakes his head.

"No, that's not what I mean." Jack huffs, seemingly frustrated with himself, and ducks to hide his face on Bitty's shoulder.

Bitty smiles at him, and kisses him playfully on the head. "Well, it's not too late to tell me."

Jack just makes an embarrassed noise against Bitty's neck, and Bitty grins into his hair. "Want me to go first?" Jack nods, so Bitty continues. "I'm not quite sure how we have gone so long without talking about this stuff."

Jack laughs softly and pulls back enough to look at Bitty. "I know. Shitty would be mad at me."

Not mad, Bitty thinks, but he doesn’t want to talk about Shitty right now. Bitty realizes he's still got his legs wrapped around Jack, and he loosens his hold. "Come here." He pats the countertop next to him, and Jack sits, turning to face him. They are still touching, hands finding each other and holding tight, but this position is a little less intense and Jack seems to relax.

“I know I can’t expect you to read my mind,” Jack says slowly. “I just worry, so much, about… so many things… and I guess you’ve figured out I’m not very good at talking about what I’m feeling.” 

“That’s okay. I understand.” Bitty threads his fingers through Jack’s, marveling once more at how much bigger his hand is than his own. “But this is okay, right? If we talk about it now?”

Jack nods, and Bitty draws in a deep breath. He never really imagined himself in this situation, not with his almost total lack of sexual experience. But it’s clear that Jack needs him to pave the way. 

“I like you a lot, Jack.” Love you, really, but I’m not going there yet.

Jack blushes, and squeezes Bitty’s hand. “I like you a lot, too.”

Okay, here goes. "I like spending time with you, and talking with you, and just being together. But… in addition to the many reasons I enjoy spending time with you, you turn me on just by breathing in my general direction." Bitty risks a glance directly at Jack, who is gazing right back at him, wide-eyed.

"You turn me on, too," Jack stutters out, almost as if he's afraid to say the words. 

Okay, that’s good, that’s good, Bitty thinks helplessly to himself. Deep breaths, keep going.

"I haven't had a boyfriend before, not really," Bitty says, "and I haven't more than kissed anyone."

"I know," Jack says, his eyebrows drawing together. 

"But I want to do more, with you. Very much." Bitty has never been more certain of anything, yet the trepidation in Jack's eyes doesn't fade. "That is, if you want to. When you're ready, I’m ready."

Jack is so clearly nervous, Bitty just wants to wrap him in his arms and tell him to forget the whole thing, but he doesn't think that would really solve the problem. It’s clear that the matter hasn’t just been in Bitty’s head, it’s been something Jack has been thinking about too.

Finally Jack speaks up. "You’re saying you want to... have sex with me,” he says, almost testing it out.

"In one form or another. Or, you know, multiple forms." Bitty grins gently. "Not all at once, necessarily. But I'm open, to all of it." Bitty still isn't sure which direction Jack is going with this, if Bitty’s revelation is welcome or not. He thinks it is, from the slightly stunned look on Jack’s face, and the way his eyes have gone wide. But it’s still up in the air, and Bitty really doesn’t want to pressure him. "But we don't have to, if you don't want-"

"Oh, I want to," Jack breathes out. "I do, Eric. I want everything with you. I just don’t want you to regret it.”

Bitty breathes a sigh of relief as Jack finally speaks his mind, but he’s still confused. “Regret it? Why would I regret it?”

Jack rubs his hand over his face and looks down, avoiding Bitty’s eyes, and doesn’t respond. 

Bitty touches his cheek and tries to catch his gaze as he attempts to reassure him. "I’ll tell you, all right, if we go too fast? Or if we do something I don't feel comfortable with? And you can do the same with me. Jack…” Bitty runs a finger along the collar of Jack’s open button-up and gives the material a little tug. “I think we can have a lot of fun together.”

A hesitant look passes over Jack's face. "Fun,” he says, finally looking up at Bitty.

"Yeah,” Bitty replies. “Didn't you have fun when you had sex before?" Bitty bites his lip as soon as the question pops out of his mouth, because the answer is clearly no.

Jack pauses, and Bitty can almost see him sinking back into himself. The potential reasons why are making Bitty’s heart ache. "I'm sorry, Jack, I don't mean to pry,” he says quickly. “You don't have to tell me."

"No, I... I probably should." Jack lets out a long breath and looks Bitty in the eye. "The only thing approaching a relationship I've ever really had was in high school. And it was... Rarely fun. Mostly hormonal, panicked, and desperate. It felt good in the moment, but it never lasted. We were both lonely, and scared, and young... I wasn't in a good place, and we didn't ever talk about what was going on. It was consensual, but… I was trying to do too much, to be too much. I hurt him, I think, although I didn't mean to." 

Jack's eyes have dropped down to his thighs, but he continues. "It ended with my overdose. Since then, I've gone on some dates, fooled around a little, but nothing serious. The thing is, though… I'm serious about you, Eric.” Jack’s staring straight at Bitty now, and the look in his eyes is almost enough to make Bitty swoon. “I don't want to mess this up. I don’t want you to look back on our time together and wish you hadn’t met me."

"Oh my lord, sweetheart," Bitty breathes out, looping his hands around Jack's neck. "I'm serious about you, too. I could never wish I hadn’t met you, never. And you're not going to mess this up."

"How can you know that?" Jack's voice is small, broken, laden with all his fears.

“Well, for one, I’m crazy about you. And I think I’m getting to know you pretty well. Whoever you were back in high school, that was a long time ago. Right now, the Jack Zimmermann I know is brave, and thoughtful, and sweet, and caring. He brought me soup when I was sick, for goodness’ sake.”

Jack sniffs, and rubs his eyes. He’s not crying, not quite, but Bitty’s heart clenches with concern. “And whoever your partner was back then, Jack, I’m not him.”

“No, I know you’re not-”

“I adore you, Jack,” Bitty says intently, trying to pour all the love he’s not yet about to verbalize into his substitute words. “I adore you, and I would never do anything to hurt you. If you’re not ready for more yet, that is totally and completely okay, d’ya hear me? We’re not going to do anything you aren’t ready to do.” He wraps his arms around Jack’s shoulders and holds him tight. “I may be dreaming about ravishing you, Mr. Zimmermann, but I can wait. I promise.”

This statement brings an immediate smile to Jack’s face, but then he digs his forehead into Bitty’s shoulder and they just stay there for a few minutes, Jack’s breathing finally calming down. “You really want to ravish me?” he finally mumbles into Bitty’s neck.

“Mmm. Definitely. When you’re ready.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Jack says. “I’ve talked about this with my therapist but… it’s different than having it actually happen. I can’t practice it or anything.”

Bitty has a wildly inappropriate image of Jack letting his therapist grope him to see how he’d react, and swiftly pushes it away. “You’re not a mess, sweetheart. And we can practice whenever you want. In fact,” Bitty sits up and stretches his back, running his hands down Jack’s arms, “why don’t we relocate to the couch, and pretend to watch a movie while we practice making out for a little while?”

Jack just stares at him for a moment, then chortles with delight. “Really? You’re good with that?”

“Really.” 

Jack hops down on to the floor, and Bitty does the same. But before Bitty moves away, Jack pulls him close for a kiss, a hand on Bitty’s cheek. “You are remarkable, Eric,” he says when he tilts his head back for a breath. The light has come back into Jack’s eyes, and he no longer looks like he’d rather flee the country than continue their conversation. In fact, Bitty thinks it’s fair to say that Jack looks happy. Really happy.

“I aim to please, sir,” Bitty says, grinning as he takes Jack’s hand and leads them to the living room.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s the next day, and Bitty is trudging through the snow on the path outside the library. The snow is coming down fast, heavier by the minute. As much fun as it is to make fresh footprints with his boots, Bitty is all the way across campus from his next class and he’d really rather not have to fight the weather in order to get there.

“Eric! Hey, Eric!”

He turns at the sound and sees Jack waving wildly at him from across the quad. Jack jogs towards him, apparently unfazed by the snow. He gets closer and finally leaps over a snowbank and lands on the path in front of him, beaming like a maniac. “Hi!”

“Jack, what are you doing here?”

Jack bounces up to him and tugs Bitty’s hat down over his ears. “Your next class is cancelled. Thought I could take you out for coffee. Since it’s snowing.”

None of this makes any sense to Bitty. “What do you mean my next class is cancelled? And how do you know?”

Jack shrugs. “I was having lunch with Shitty in the Square and he got a text. Early closing because of the snowstorm. So I came to find you.”

There’s a warmth spreading through Bitty’s chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the layers of fleece he has on under his parka. “Well. You found me,” he says, a smile teasing at the corner of his mouth.

“I did.” Jack smiles back, ducking his head and then looking happily at Bitty. “So, coffee?”

Fifteen minutes later, they are happily ensconced in one of the many Starbucks within easy walking distance of the law school. Jack is sipping cautiously at the peppermint mocha Bitty urged him to get, looking altogether too adorable with his hair all mussed from his wool hat.

“So, what d’ya think – good, right?” Bitty asks.

Jack smiles back at him, easy and open. “Definitely good.”

Bitty gets the feeling he’s not just talking about the mocha.

“I have to say, Mr. Zimmermann, I’m quite surprised to see you today. I’m not upset, mind you, not in the least. But we did see each other just last night.”

Jack nods and jiggles his leg under the table. “I know. I know. And that’s kind of why I’m so glad to see you again today.”

Bitty tilts his head, trying to read his ever opaque boyfriend. “Do tell.”

“Well… part of it is just… I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be, with my schedule right now. I mean, I’m pretty absorbed during hockey season-”

“No, really?”

Jack rolls his eyes and goes on. “I am, I don’t pretend to be otherwise, I have to be. And you’re busy with school. But still. It’s hard not being able to see you more often.”

It’s Bitty’s turn to nod. “It’s true.”

“And… I may also have been… nervous, about, um, things. ” Jack’s gaze slips away from Bitty’s, but then he’s looking back at him, blue eyes wide. “More than I realized. It really helped, to talk last night.”

Oh my, Bitty thinks, something soft and warm unfurling inside him. _I am falling way too hard for this boy._ “I’m glad.” He runs a finger along Jack’s hand where it is clutching his paper cup. “It helped me, too.”

“Yeah?” Jack looks encouraged, and smiles softly at Bitty. “Good. Because now, um… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Bitty can feel the blush spreading across his face, but he doesn’t care. “Well then, handsome, we’re on the same page.”

They both sip at their drinks for a few minutes, shyly glancing up at the other like high schoolers on a first date. Bitty wants to cheer their success. He did something right, he thinks; they both did. 

Bitty’s phone pings, and he ignores it the first time, but then it pings three times more in succession. “What’s going on?” he mutters to himself, fishing it out of his pocket. It’s a message from the dean, passing on the governor’s declaration of a state of emergency, and another from a professor rescheduling their mock trial practice. “Ugh, this storm is going to be a monster, isn’t it?”

Jack takes out his phone as well, and he nods in agreement. “Looks like it. There’s a travel ban statewide through at least tomorrow afternoon.” He reads further down. “The team meeting tonight is cancelled, and they might even have to postpone the game tomorrow.”

“Oh no,” Bitty says. “Weren’t you playing the Penguins?”

“Not if Logan is closed – they won’t be able to get here. And if travel conditions are deemed too hazardous for fans and TD Garden staff to get to the arena, the game will be cancelled anyway.”

Bitty has only lived in the northeast for a year and a half, and even moderate snowstorms seem impressive to him. He doesn’t quite know what to make of this news. If the weather is bad enough to cancel an all-important professional hockey game, there must be no end to the consequences.

“Eric? You okay?”

“What does a state of emergency mean, exactly?”

A look of concern flashes over Jack’s face, and he shifts to put a hand on Bitty’s arm. “It’s nothing to worry about. Not if you have somewhere warm and safe to be. They just want people to keep off the roads so they don’t get stranded in their cars. As long as you have a few days’ supply of food in the house-”

Bitty laughs, his worries evaporating. “When have I ever not had a few days’ supply of food in the house?”

“I didn’t mean just baking supplies,” Jack chirps playfully.

“I have more than just baking supplies… usually. At least, I do right now.”

“Then you’ll be fine. Water and flashlights are good to have, too,” Jack says, more serious now. “Why don’t I walk you home and we can stop at the store along the way? We can pick you up a lantern and some candles in case the power goes out.”

They wrap themselves up and go out into the storm. It’s getting dark, and the falling snow looks charming under the glow of the streetlights. After a quick stop at a convenience store (which Jack praises for its large supply of flashlights, batteries, and related items) they head away from the main road and make their way slowly towards Bitty’s apartment. 

The side streets are almost empty, and Bitty marvels at how quiet everything is, muffled by a growing layer of snow.

When they reach the front door, Jack ducks down and gives Bitty a lingering kiss, his lips cool against Bitty’s own.

“What was that for, mister?” Bitty asks playfully.

“You look cute in the snow,” Jack says, smiling at him as Bitty unlocks the front door. “I couldn’t resist.”

As they come inside, they are greeted by a familiar voice yelling “Yatzee!” Shitty jumps up and does a little victory dance. When he sees them come in, Shitty rushes over and grabs them both by the arms. “Bros! It’s drunk Yatzee! You gotta try it!”

Jack just shakes his head, and Bitty looks around the room to find Lardo, Dex, and another man he hasn’t met before gathered around the coffee table, mugs of what must be something alcoholic in front of each of them.

“Shitty, what on earth is going on here?”

Shitty slaps Bitty on the back a few times, and Lardo comes up to give them each a hug. 

“I thought it would be more fun to hang out with you two crazy kids during the storm of the century instead of getting stuck in my dorm – which is decidedly lacking in baked goods, even when it’s not snowing,” Shitty declares.

“He made me come,” Lardo says, shrugging. “But I can make him leave if you want me to. He’ll do anything I say.”

Jack’s face goes red on Shitty’s behalf at this statement, although Shitty just casts a fond look at Lardo. Bitty thinks there must be some interesting gossip to be had there. Quite apart from that, he’s darn pleased with the thought that it is his apartment that his friends want to gather at. In any case he would never ask them to leave in the middle of a snowstorm.

“No, of course y’all can stay,” he says enthusiastically. “We’ve got plenty of supplies, and I see you’ve already had some ideas for entertainment.”

Dex stands up and tugs his friend to his feet, and they both come over to Jack and Bitty.

“Guys, this is my friend Derek Nurse, from college.”

“Call me Nursey.” 

“Nice to meet you, Nursey,” Jack says politely. “Hockey nickname, eh?”

Nursey blinks at Jack, possibly just now realizing who he’s talking to. “Um, yes sir, yes, it is. Dex and I played together. Hockey, that is. In college, where we went together.”

“Got that,” Bitty says gently, shaking Nursey’s hand and giving him a minute to collect himself. “Well, I’m mighty glad to meet you. And you’ll fit right in here – I take it you’ve already heard that Jack and Shitty were on the team together at Samwell, and Lardo was their manager?”

Nursey’s eyes widen further, as he looks over at Shitty – who is currently trying to roll the Yatzee dice while standing on his head, one leg kicking wildly and threatening a nearby lamp. “Um, no, actually. But that’s good to know.” He shoots a fierce glance at Dex. “Thanks for giving a guy some warning.”

“I didn’t know they’d be coming over,” Dex grumps back at him. “Not so chill after all, are you.”

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly, fueled not only by the Irish coffee concoctions Shitty has made, but also with the help of several dozen chocolate chip cookies (“sometimes a classic is called for,” Bitty notes), a hearty loaf of sourdough bread, and beef stew with potatoes and carrots. Bitty’s saving the pie and apple turnovers for dessert, although they are already baked and cooling on the countertop, just in case the power goes out.

Dex checks the weather on his phone every so often. The forecast isn’t getting any better. Each time Dex reads off the increasingly dire sounding warnings, Bitty’s stomach tightens. This just isn’t something he had to deal with in Georgia. An occasional inch or two of snow might have sent people into a tizzy, but they were never actually worried about freezing to death.

“Ah, Bitty, relax,” Shitty says, leaning into him and bumping against his shoulder. “It’s just a fucking snowstorm.”

“They cancelled the game tomorrow,” Jack contributes, scrolling through a message on his phone.

“Shit like this happens all the time in New England,” Shitty says. 

“They say it might be as bad as the blizzard of ’78,” Dex chimes in.

“What was the blizzard of ’78?” As much as it makes Bitty nervous, there’s something fascinating about the storm, too. Like watching a tornado approach.

“Over twenty-seven inches of snow, for thirty-three hours. Thousands of cars were stranded – people had to be evacuated off the highways by skiers and snowmobiles. It fell so hard and so fast, people couldn’t get off the roads,” Dex responds.

“And it was right in the middle of the Beanpot tournament,” Nursey adds. “Hundreds of college hockey fans were stuck at the Garden for days.”

“How do y’all know so much about this stuff?” Bitty asks.

Shitty just shrugs. “New England trivia, I guess. I’ve lived here all my life, y’know. And the blizzard of ’78… it was a big deal.”

Bitty turns to Jack, who has been mostly quiet during this discussion. “And what about you? Does your family still tell tales of the great blizzard?”

Jack tilts his head at Bitty, and Shitty just laughs. “He’s Canadian, Bits. They eat blizzards like this for breakfast.”

Bitty feels his face warm, but Jack grabs his wrist and pulls him a little closer next to him on the couch. “We get plenty of snow,” Jack says, moving to put his arm around Bitty, now that he can reach properly, “but we also understand how serious a snowstorm can be.”

Bitty leans into Jack, warm and solid against him. At least Jack isn’t chirping him right now. He’s taking his fears seriously, and it does a lot to soothe him. Bitty pulls his knees up on the couch and snuggles closer, as the conversation around him turns to memories of other big storms. 

He feels Jack’s breath ruffle his hair, and his eyes start to slide closed. It’s been a long day, but cuddled up next to Jack he feels safe.

Suddenly everyone gasps, and Bitty opens his eyes to find that the lights are off.

“Power’s out,” Shitty says unnecessarily. Lardo immediately holds up her phone with the flashlight app on. Dex and Nursey begin to bicker about which of them properly charged their phones in anticipation of losing power, and Jack just motions Lardo towards the bag of supplies they had bought earlier this afternoon.

Soon they’ve got a lantern perched in the middle of the coffee table, and a few candles burning in the kitchen. 

Jack quietly hands Bitty a flashlight, and Bitty shoots him a grateful look. 

Shitty suggests another round of drinks, but Nursey and Dex can’t seem to agree on whether they’re up for more activity. Nursey finally just says his goodnights and heads off to Dex’s room. Dex shakes his head at the group and then follows his friend, leaving just the four of them in the orange light of the lantern.

“Cuddle up, boys, it’s gonna get cold,” Shitty says with a wink as Dex walks away. 

It suddenly occurs to Bitty that everyone is staying the night. Everyone, including Jack. He feels like slapping himself on the head – of course they’re all staying, there’s been a travel ban in place for hours, and the snow is coming down harder than ever. 

Lardo and Shitty are now curled up together in the room’s only armchair, a blanket over them both, Shitty talking about high winds and possible flooding on the Cape while playing with a strand of Lardo’s hair. But Bitty is less worried about the storm now, and more focused on the man beside him.

“Jack?” he says softly, pulling back until he can see Jack’s face. The dim light in the room casts shadows everywhere, but Jack’s eyes are as bright as ever.

“Yeah, Eric?”

He considers once more, taking Jack’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “Want to go to bed?” 

Jack looks briefly excited at the idea, then his face slides into neutral. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You didn’t exactly plan on this. I can sleep out here, on the couch.”

“With these guys?” Bitty inclines his head towards Shitty and Lardo.

“They won’t even notice.”

Bitty thinks Jack is looking for encouragement, not an excuse to stay out of Bitty’s bed. “I’ll be warmer with you there,” Bitty says lightly. “You can protect me from the storm. But – you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Jack smiles, and leans down to brush a kiss against Bitty’s lips. “I want to.”

They untangle themselves and get up from the couch, Bitty turning on the flashlight and inadvertently shining it right at Shitty and Lardo.

“Brah, easy there,” Shitty exclaims. “You could have just said goodnight.”

“Sorry,” Bitty says. “But at least you guys can move to the couch now.”

Shitty focuses on him and Jack, holding hands and standing somewhat impatiently in front of him, and grins widely. “’Swawesome. Hey, Jack, hang on a second.”

Shitty reaches around to grab his backpack, nearly dislodging Lardo from his lap, and she responds by grabbing the bag and tossing it towards Jack.

“Shits brought you some stuff,” Lardo says. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

Jack opens the backpack and pokes around, pulling out a Harvard Coop bag, stuffed with a crimson Harvard Law sweatshirt and gray sweatpants.

“Consider it a birthday present,” Shitty says, as Jack gives him a confused look.

“My birthday’s in August,” Jack responds, “but thanks, Shitty.” He leans over his friends and gives them both a quick hug. Shitty responds by slapping Jack on the ass as he turns back to Bitty, and Jack just sighs.

“Come on, Eric, let’s go,” Jack says.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Lardo sings out. 

“Be safe,” Shitty adds. “And remember, consent is sexy.”

Bitty feels his face heat. Shitty didn’t actually hear them talking last night in Jack’s apartment, did he? “We’re good, don’t worry!” he yells at Shitty, tugging Jack down the hallway as quickly as he can. “Oh my lord, I’m gonna kill him, why does he say things like that, does he not understand that some things are private-”

Jack stills him with a kiss, his hands on Bitty’s shoulders, and Bitty relaxes. “Don’t worry about him, Eric.” Jack kisses him again, slower this time, his hand cupping Bitty’s cheek. “It’s okay.”

Bitty pulls back, slightly dazed from how it seems that all the blood in his body has just rushed to his nether regions. “Okay.” He blinks up. “Um, the bathroom’s in the hall, there’s a spare toothbrush in the right hand drawer, I think, you can use my toothpaste…”

“Thanks.” Jack gives him another kiss, and then he’s gone, leaving Bitty in his small bedroom with his flashlight and his increasingly not safe for work thoughts. He quickly changes into sweats and an old Georgia Tech sweatshirt – it’s not his favorite, but he figures it might get cold if the power doesn’t come back on soon. He’s got his closet door open, reaching up to pull down a spare quilt when Jack returns, pressing his warm body up behind Bitty’s.

“Need some help with that?” Jack easily takes the quilt down from the shelf and then wraps his other arm around Bitty. 

“Don’t tease,” Bitty says lightly. “It’s not my fault you’re so tall.”

Jack pulls Bitty against him, kissing the top of his head. “You’re perfect.”

The butterflies in his stomach are careening around like there’s no tomorrow, as Jack lays the quilt over Bitty’s comforter and slides under the covers. Jack holds out a hand to Bitty. Bitty eagerly takes it, and then slides in between the cold sheets, leaving the flashlight on the night table.

“I should probably turn it off, right?” he asks, not really wanting to stop looking at Jack.

“Yeah. Conserve the battery.”

“Okay.” Bitty twists and turns off the light. As he turns back over, his body moves almost of its own accord towards Jack, like a heat seeking missile.

Jack turns on his side and brushes Bitty’s hair away from his face, nuzzling close. Bitty can hardly see anything at all, but as his eyes adjust, he can make out the outline of Jack’s body. He runs his hand down from Jack’s shoulder, along his arm, over his elbow where it is bent to hold Bitty. 

And then they’re kissing, soft at first, but quickly growing more heated. Bitty wonders if they should have talked first, especially given their conversation the night before, but Jack seems pretty sure about what he wants, so Bitty just decides to let him lead.

It’s a good choice, he thinks to himself, as Jack’s hands start to wander down Bitty’s body, pausing to slide up under his sweatshirt and rub at the muscles on his lower back. Then, as if Jack had never been hesitant at all, he cups Bitty’s ass with one large hand and tugs, bringing their hips together. 

Jack’s hand stays there, squeezing just a little, and Bitty sucks in a deep breath, sure that all the oxygen in the room has somehow just flown right out the window. “This okay, Eric?” Jack asks softly, as he proceeds to suck kisses on Bitty’s neck.

“Lord, yes,” Bitty breathes out, wiggling even closer. He’s hard, and he knows Jack must be able to tell. He has the feeling he knows where this is going, and the anticipation is fantastic.

Jack shifts Bitty on to his back, and tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt. “Will you be warm enough if we take this off?”

Bitty blinks at Jack, hardly able to process the question. Storm? What storm? He pulls the sweatshirt off over this head. “Yours, too?”

Jack nods and complies, then pushes Bitty down and starts an agonizingly slow exploration of Bitty’s chest, using his mouth, and his tongue, and his teeth… Bitty writhes as Jack focuses on one nipple and then the other, pulling and teasing, his fingers helping as he goes.

“Oh god, Jack…”

“You okay?”

Bitty grins down at his boyfriend, just a blob of dark hair working its way down his body. “So okay.”

“You’ll tell me if…?”

“I will. And you’ll tell me. You don’t need to ask again.”

Jack smirks at Bitty. “But I have it on good authority that consent is sexy…”

Bitty shoves at his shoulder. “Don’t bring Shitty into this now. I consent, is that clear enough?” Bitty wiggles his hips, pushing up against Jack’s chest. “Do you need me to put it in writing?”

Jack surges up and attacks Bitty’s mouth with his own, kissing him deeply. “No, that’s good,” he says softly. “Me too.” He gazes into Bitty’s eyes for a long moment, then kisses him again, over and over. Just when Bitty thinks he might explode from the anticipation, Jack pulls off with a tug at Bitty’s lower lip and moves away, kissing down Bitty’s chest. 

Jack has both hands on Bitty’s upper thighs, and when he noses along the fabric over Bitty’s aching cock, Bitty lets out a long moan. Jack tucks his thumbs into the waist of Bitty’s sweatpants, and Bitty raises his ass up as Jack frees him from the pants and his briefs.

Bitty shivers just a bit as the cold air hits him, Jack pausing a moment to take off his own pants, and then they are pressed together, both gloriously naked. They rock together for a moment, Jack’s leg wrapping around Bitty’s thigh, their hard cocks trapped between them. Then Jack is off again, moving down Bitty’s body, pausing just as his breath puffs against Bitty’s length.

“Can I…?” Jack stops short of saying the words, but given that Jack’s mouth is mere inches from his cock, Bitty gets the gist easily enough. Guess that conversation last night really did the trick, he thinks.

“God, Jack, yes,” he pants out, one hand gripping Jack’s shoulder, the other grasping Jack’s hand where it rests on his hip and giving it a firm squeeze. Then the next thing he knows Jack’s hot, wet mouth is on him, and Bitty practically screams.

Jack pops off and draws in a breath, one hand reaching up to grab Bitty’s. “That was a good noise, right?”

“Holy fuck, Jack, yes.”

Jack gets back to work, taking Bitty into his mouth again, sucking and teasing relentlessly. He’s got his hand around the base, increasing the pressure, and Bitty has never felt anything like it before. Bitty lets a hand drift to Jack’s hair, and Jack surfaces again, leaning his face against Bitty’s thigh. “You can pull, if you want,” he says quickly, then licks a stripe up Bitty’s cock as Bitty gasps.

So Bitty winds his fingers into Jack’s hair, but between the feeling of Jack’s mouth on him and his rapidly approaching orgasm, he has no idea if he’s doing what Jack wants. He’s panting, moaning, his hips shaking, when he realizes just how quickly things are about to end.

“Wait, wait,” he stutters out, and Jack immediately pulls off. “Come here.” Bitty reaches for Jack, and finds his mouth, kissing him sloppily as he catches his breath and tries to back himself away from the edge.

“Want to touch you, too,” Bitty finally explains, and Jack nips at his ear, then falls on to his back.

“Be my guest.”

“You’re so accommodating.”

“They say Canadians are unfailingly polite.”

Bitty laughs at this, and then straddles Jack, letting his hands slide down his boyfriend’s chiseled abs and tight stomach. “If you can say things like ‘unfailingly polite’ right now I don’t think I’m doing my job.” Bitty wraps his hand around Jack’s cock, and cheers when he hears Jack gasp in response. “This okay, sweetheart?” he asks, trying to find a rhythm that pleases Jack.

“Eric, god, yes, keep going.” Jack doesn’t seem picky, so Bitty continues to experiment, lighter and then firmer, a twist here and there. Jack is making the most delicious sounds, breathy sighs and moans, and occasionally a whimper, so he figures he’s doing okay.

Then Jack’s hand stills his. “God that’s good, Eric. But… hang on a second.” Jack practically dives off the side of the bed, and Bitty hears the crinkling sound of a plastic bag. Jack comes back up and finds Bitty’s hand, and he feels something cold and wet being squeezed into it.

“Shitty did not buy us lube…”

“He’s like a Boy Scout, but with a lot more facial hair,” Jack says. “Always prepared. Pretty sure there are condoms in there too. Possibly also breath mints.” There’s a pause, and Jack slides down, stretching his long body out next to Bitty’s. “But for now, let’s try this.”

Jack shifts until their cocks are close together, and then his hand is on Bitty’s, the lube easing the friction. Bitty does the same, reaching for Jack, and this time when Jack sighs with pleasure Bitty can feel his breath against his face. He leans closer, kissing him gently, although their kisses turn messy and uneven as they continue to stroke each other.

Bitty can’t put words to how good this feels. It isn’t just a localized sensation, not just the pleasurable tense and release he’s experienced in more solo exercises. There’s something about being here with Jack, breathing the same air, feeling the wiry hair on his legs as he wraps himself around him, listening to him mumble words of praise and encouragement.

Before he can plan it out, he’s close again, his orgasm thundering towards him. “Jack, Jack, I…” He’s almost scared for a moment, uncertain, as what’s coming threatens to overwhelm him.

“It’s okay, Eric. I’ve got you,” Jack breathes out, nuzzling against his neck and then up along his chin, holding him close as he continues to stroke him. “You’re so beautiful. Come on, it’s okay.”

Bitty comes with a burst of pleasure, lights exploding behind his eyes. He vaguely registers Jack coming moments after, with a long moan that sounds just as pornographic as it actually is. Then Jack is holding him close, petting his hair and kissing his cheeks, apparently completely unconcerned about the sticky mess between them.

“I love you, Eric,” Jack says. “Love you so much.”

Bitty blinks hard, but he can’t see any more clearly in the dim light than he had before. And darkness doesn’t interfere with hearing, so… “Jack?”

“Hmm?” Jack is lazy, now, nuzzling at Bitty’s neck and settling in close. “That’s okay, right?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. I love you, Eric Bittle.” Jack squirms around, finds his discarded boxers on the floor and wipes half-heartedly at their stomachs. 

Bitty laughs, and shoves Jack’s arm away, flopping back down on him with a torrent of kisses. “I love you too, Jack.”

“So it’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay. Lord, what a night.” Bitty brushes Jack’s sweaty hair away from his face, tracing a finger down his stubbly cheek and sharp jaw. “You’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing-er.”

“That’s not a word.”

“English is my second language. Don’t make fun.”

They’re both giggly, Jack continuing to kiss Bitty here and there, his hand finally settling on Bitty’s naked ass cheek, giving it a squeeze to make Bitty laugh.

“We should probably clean up properly,” Bitty finally says, not really wanting to move.

Jack sighs. “It’ll be cold if we get out of bed.” 

Bitty suddenly remembers the blizzard, and the fact that they’re supposed to be dressed warm and not doing stupid things like taking off their clothes and creating unpleasant wet spots on the bed, when he realizes he can see Jack’s face much more clearly than he could before. There’s light coming in from under the door. And it definitely isn’t as cold in the apartment as he expected it to be.

“I think the power came back on,” Bitty says, sitting up. “We should probably go make sure we haven’t left every light in the house on.”

Jack sits up too. “Do you think Shitty and Lardo noticed?”

“I don’t know – should we go find out?”

Jack brushes his fingers through Bitty’s messy hair, his eyes wide and soft. “Sure. They’d probably like some pie.”

Bitty pulls on his briefs and sweatshirt, and finds Jack’s clothes at the foot of the bed and tosses them in his direction. “Now that civilization has been restored, I can actually warm the pie up properly. And this means the ice cream won’t be melted.”

Later, sitting on the floor with his friends, Jack pressed up close to his side and feeding him spoonfuls of pie and ice cream as Lardo teases Shitty for falling off the couch when the lights came back on, Bitty thinks that his second year of school has turned out to be very different than his first. It’s not at all what he expected when he had declared himself ready for romance back in September. Instead, it’s better than he ever could have imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Billy Joel’s “This Night.” Please, if you don’t know it, listen to it, and get to the chorus, especially the second one: “This night you’re mine. There’s only you and I. I’ll tell you to forget yesterday. This night we are together.” I dare you to think about Jack and Bitty and not tear up. (Further note: The basis of the song's chorus uses the second movement of Ludwig van Beethoven's Pathétique Sonata; it’s so very beautiful.)
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr! I’m [ flowerfan2](http://flowerfan2.tumblr.com)


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